University of Virginia Library

THE WIDOW OR CRESS GATHERER

Soon as the spring its earliest visit pays
& buds wi march & aprils lengthend days
Of mingld suns & shades & snow & rain
Forcing the crackling frost to melt again
Oft sprinkling from their bosoms as they come
A dwindling daisey here & there to bloom
I mark the widow & her orphan boy
In preparation for their old employ
The same lorn figures as they usd to be
Rags pinchd with hungry care from poverty
The cloak & hat that had for seasons past
Repelld the rain & buffeted the blast
Tho worn to shreddings still are occupyd
In makeshifts way their nakedness to hide
For since her husband dyd her hopes are few
When times wore out the old to purchase new
Upon the green theyre seen by rising sun
To sharp winds croodling they woud vainly shun
Wi baskets on their arms & hazel crooks
Dragging the sprouting cresses from the brooks
A savory sallad sought for luxurys whim
Tho small reward her labours meet from him
When parceld out she humbly takes for sale
The simple produce of the waterd vale
In yearly visits to some market town
Meeting by turns a penny & a frown
Of all the masks desception ever weaves
Life thines the visage that the most decieves
One hour of thine an emperors glory greets
Another turns him begging in the streets
Een this poor wretch thy meanest link who lives
On scantest sustenance that labour gives
Has known her better days when thou times gone
Een condescended to look kind upon
Times went not thus when abler hands supplyd
Thy vain existance ere her husband dyd
Who various ways a living did pursue
Clerk of the parish & schoolmaster too
Who puntual always rung the evening bell
& sung amen on sundays loud & well
& tho not nice in this & that respect
Was rarely found his duty to neglect
His worldly ways religions neer perplext
He never faild to reccolect the text
Or quote the sermons passages by heart
In warm devotion oer an honest quart
& as a brother of those subtle tools
That makes such figuring in our country schools
He lovd his skill to flourish & to shew
As well as godly he was learned too
Tho wi the boast most common to his kin
The use of figures he knew little in
By far too puzzling for his head was they
He sought fames purchase by an easier way
& like his scholars with his a b c
Was found more ready then the rule of three
In 'rithmetic & such like crabbed stuff
Far as reduction he deemd learnd enough
Hed other learning nigher hand for him
& that he could not reach he calld a whim
Hed many things to crack on with his ale
For clowns less learned to wonder at the tale
& oer his pot hed take the news & preach
& observations make from speech to speech
Till those around him swore each wise remark
Showd him more fit for parson then for clerk
& hed to minutes tell when moons were new
& 'clipses talk about the seasons thro
& saint days all the callender declares
Run oer as ready as hed read his prayers
& change of weather jud[g]ing foul or fine
Mystic conclusions drawn from many a sign
Of dripping moons or suns in crimsons set
To him sure tokens as to fair or wet
& wonders telling from the yearly store
That fills the learned almanacks of moor
Earthquakes & plagues & floods were known & when
From second father noahs days till then
Till most gave out had he divulgd his trade
Hed made best almanacks that ere was made
& wonderd greatly when he dyd to find
He left no fragment of his art behind
& as he always for the sake of fame
Conseald the sources whence his learning came
His artless listners who of books none knew
'Sides the large bibles in the parsons pew
Thought he more things then lawful understood
& knowledge got from helpers none too good
When he was living shed her comforts then
& knew no trials to support her sen
Tho industry woud oft from leisure steal
Odd hours to knit or turn the spinning wheel
Choice is not misery she had neighbours fare
Got hand to mouth & descent cloaths to wear
Tho joys fall sparing in this checkerd life
Wide difference parts the widow from the wife
Encroaching want showd not such frightfull form
Or drove her dithering in the numbing storm
Picking half naked round the brooks for bread
To earn her penny ere she can be fed
In grief pursuing every chance to live
That timly toils in seasons please to give
Thro hot & cold some weather as it will
Striving wi pain & dissapointed still
Just keeping from expiring lifes last fire
That pining lingers ready to expire
The winter thro near barefoot left to pull
From bramble twigs her little mites of whool
A hard earnd sixpence when her mops are spun
By many a whalk & aching finger won
& eeking hirpling round from time to time
Her harmless sprotes from hedges hung wi ryhme
The daily needings wants worst shifts requires
To hunt her fuel ere she makes her fires
When she while grinning to the hissling blast
Wi buds or berries often breaks her fast
In summer time the little rest of care
Is every morning cheated of its share
& ere one sunbeam glistens in the dew
The long wet pasture grass she dabbles thro
Where sprouts the mushroom in the farey rings
Which nights black mistery to perfection brings
& these she seeks ere gins her daily toils
As extra gains to labours scanty spoils
By every means thus lingering life along
& daily struggling gainst a stream too strong
& thus from year to year thro foul & fine
Shed sooner labour tho its but to pine
Then meet severer woes mid threats & frowns
Of those brute emperors of little towns
Whose very names awakens want to tears
When force compells to seek its overseers
Whose ears are shut on griefs severest sighs
Whose hearts are marble when the hungry cries
Railing at mouths that open to be fed
Entailing curses in the lieu of bread
Who een the bed of death stands tearless bye
Were want droops famish'd on his straw to dye
When justice drives em as in dutys part
To offer kindness while its grudgd at heart
& as they turn them from the sufferers fate
Een sneer to witness that its brought too late
Truth draws the picture coarse as is the blame
& he who drew it once had provd the same
Had freezing want his constant clouded sky
Kept him in darkness hid from pitys eye
Who heard his sorrows & wi instant aid
Stoopd down to bear him from the chilly shade
Above the level of misfortunes den
Were bloodhounds harbour neath the masks of men
To which tho justice now & then may turn
& blunts the weapons yet the cure detains
She seems half sleeping while she hears em mourn
& shuts her eyes upon their keenest pains