 | Dorothy |  |
Thus then, at half past five, her day was begun, and her labour:
Opening of windows and doors, cleaning of grates and of hearths;
Wiping of settles and chairs, and sweeping and swilling and scouring,
Everywhere over the house, half through a long summer day.
Is it not sad, do you think, to see Dorothy drudging and scouring,
Scrubbing the dirty floor, where she had danced like a guest?
Prone on her hands and knees, crawling under the tables and benches,
She, who was praised overnight, she, who was Queen of the ball?
Well—not a thought of all this ever enter'd the head of our Dolly:
Work was her daily delight; holidays seldom and few;
And, though she liked them right well, she thought of them, too, as a servant--
One who must buy with her hands all the brief bliss she enjoy'd,
As she was buying it now: by cleaning and tidying after;
Mending what others had marr'd; setting their chaos to rights.
Opening of windows and doors, cleaning of grates and of hearths;
Wiping of settles and chairs, and sweeping and swilling and scouring,
Everywhere over the house, half through a long summer day.
Is it not sad, do you think, to see Dorothy drudging and scouring,
Scrubbing the dirty floor, where she had danced like a guest?
Prone on her hands and knees, crawling under the tables and benches,
She, who was praised overnight, she, who was Queen of the ball?
Well—not a thought of all this ever enter'd the head of our Dolly:
Work was her daily delight; holidays seldom and few;
And, though she liked them right well, she thought of them, too, as a servant--
One who must buy with her hands all the brief bliss she enjoy'd,
As she was buying it now: by cleaning and tidying after;
Mending what others had marr'd; setting their chaos to rights.
You, who are fair, who are belles, who glitter all night in your triumph,
Breakfasting late the next day, tended and dress'd by a maid,
How would you care for a ball, if you had to be up in the morning
Doing what Dorothy did—ay, and perforce, and for hire?—
Oh, what a difference it makes, being a lady, or only a woman!
Dorothy knew it quite well—she was a woman, you know—
She, though she seldom had seen and never had talk'd with a lady,
She understood it; and thought—what? That she wouldn't exchange.
Thought that she wouldn't exchange her life for the life of a lady;
Wouldn't give up what she was, not to be ever so fine!
Ah, poor thing! you perceive it was ignorance saved her from envy—
Envy of all we possess, culture and leisure and wealth:
Had she but known of these things, and the joys and the lovers they bring us,
She would have prick'd up her ears, she would have wish'd for them too!
No, I think not; for you see, she was busy with things that are useful:
Every-day duties, I mean—such as are always to do.
But there was one thing she wish'd: that she could have been, like Miss Mary,
Blest with a nice little sum, if she should happen to wed.
Oh, how prosaic! Of course, you and I never think of such matters:
We are too cultured for that; we always marry for love:
Love? Why, 'twas that, and naught else, made her wish for a trumpery fortune,
Just to outweigh, so she thought, all that was poor in herself;
So that—whoever he was—the man that should seek her a-wooing,
Might be contented, perhaps; might not repent of his choice.
Breakfasting late the next day, tended and dress'd by a maid,
How would you care for a ball, if you had to be up in the morning
Doing what Dorothy did—ay, and perforce, and for hire?—
Oh, what a difference it makes, being a lady, or only a woman!
Dorothy knew it quite well—she was a woman, you know—
27
She understood it; and thought—what? That she wouldn't exchange.
Thought that she wouldn't exchange her life for the life of a lady;
Wouldn't give up what she was, not to be ever so fine!
Ah, poor thing! you perceive it was ignorance saved her from envy—
Envy of all we possess, culture and leisure and wealth:
Had she but known of these things, and the joys and the lovers they bring us,
She would have prick'd up her ears, she would have wish'd for them too!
No, I think not; for you see, she was busy with things that are useful:
Every-day duties, I mean—such as are always to do.
But there was one thing she wish'd: that she could have been, like Miss Mary,
Blest with a nice little sum, if she should happen to wed.
Oh, how prosaic! Of course, you and I never think of such matters:
We are too cultured for that; we always marry for love:
Love? Why, 'twas that, and naught else, made her wish for a trumpery fortune,
Just to outweigh, so she thought, all that was poor in herself;
So that—whoever he was—the man that should seek her a-wooing,
Might be contented, perhaps; might not repent of his choice.
| Dorothy | |