 | Verse in bloom |  |
78
POOR, PLAIN, AND PALE
I know her sort in many a street,
Thanks be to God! since thus He wills
His poorer servants to defeat
With roughened hands a thousand ills.
So hard in Life's Tremendous Shop
We hunt successes, that we find
Ourselves too rarely moved to stop
And wait for stragglers far behind.
Though unattractive, as you say,
She's loyal to her daily load
From six o'clock till nearly ten.
Remove her from the list of souls
The great Machine of Life controls,
And how's the World to manage then?
Thanks be to God! since thus He wills
His poorer servants to defeat
With roughened hands a thousand ills.
So hard in Life's Tremendous Shop
We hunt successes, that we find
Ourselves too rarely moved to stop
And wait for stragglers far behind.
Though unattractive, as you say,
She's loyal to her daily load
From six o'clock till nearly ten.
Remove her from the list of souls
The great Machine of Life controls,
And how's the World to manage then?
She's flat of chest, untimely hurt
By pushing up the topless hill
Through pain and poverty and dirt
The load that never may be still.
But, singing on her daily round,
With crumbs to reckon, babes to nurse,
In many a troubled home she's found
Declaring things might well be worse.
She's unattractive, it is true,
But what a star of shabbiness,
With light to give, with pluck to dare!
Remove her from the list of souls
The vast Machine of Life controls,
And how's the worried World to fare?
By pushing up the topless hill
Through pain and poverty and dirt
The load that never may be still.
But, singing on her daily round,
With crumbs to reckon, babes to nurse,
79
Declaring things might well be worse.
She's unattractive, it is true,
But what a star of shabbiness,
With light to give, with pluck to dare!
Remove her from the list of souls
The vast Machine of Life controls,
And how's the worried World to fare?
The roses of her maiden hours
Upon her cheeks no more are found;
Too soon, too soon these welcome flowers
Dropped in the washtub and were drowned.
No wonder wrinkles hurrying came,
For signs of how, at war with life,
She withered grimly in the flame
That burns the hunger-haunted wife!
She's unattractive, it is true,
While toiling in her threadbare gown
To make the right come out of wrong.
Remove her from the list of souls
The queer Machine of Life controls,
And how's the world to rub along?
Upon her cheeks no more are found;
Too soon, too soon these welcome flowers
Dropped in the washtub and were drowned.
No wonder wrinkles hurrying came,
For signs of how, at war with life,
She withered grimly in the flame
That burns the hunger-haunted wife!
She's unattractive, it is true,
While toiling in her threadbare gown
To make the right come out of wrong.
Remove her from the list of souls
The queer Machine of Life controls,
And how's the world to rub along?
Behold her planning late at night,
With furrowed brows and eyelids red,
The morrow's struggle, in the sight
Of Him who gives the daily bread!
She begs of God with heart and mind
That at the entrance of the day
Her toilworn hands shall fail to find
A stone too big to roll away.
She's unattractive, be it said,
But not the kind to sit and groan,
Or rust because her eyes are wet.
Remove her from the list of souls
The grim Machine of Life controls,
And how's the world to pay its debt?
With furrowed brows and eyelids red,
The morrow's struggle, in the sight
Of Him who gives the daily bread!
80
That at the entrance of the day
Her toilworn hands shall fail to find
A stone too big to roll away.
She's unattractive, be it said,
But not the kind to sit and groan,
Or rust because her eyes are wet.
Remove her from the list of souls
The grim Machine of Life controls,
And how's the world to pay its debt?
She's working in a throng of cares,
As woman never worked before,
To drive away the wolf that tears
Its dreadful message on her door.
She's scrubber, comforter, and nurse,
Supporting hand, forgiving face,
Consoler, fairy, bootblack, purse,
Hymn and cathedral of the place!
She's unattractive, as you know,
But how she helps the sunshine warm
The days that God is pleased to give!
Remove her from the list of souls
The huge Machine of Life controls,
And how's the tangled World to live?
As woman never worked before,
To drive away the wolf that tears
Its dreadful message on her door.
She's scrubber, comforter, and nurse,
Supporting hand, forgiving face,
Consoler, fairy, bootblack, purse,
Hymn and cathedral of the place!
She's unattractive, as you know,
But how she helps the sunshine warm
The days that God is pleased to give!
Remove her from the list of souls
The huge Machine of Life controls,
And how's the tangled World to live?
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