 | Poems (1867) |  |
345
A DIALOGUE. IN 1863.
“Well, what news have you got to-day, neighbour?” “Why, the Prince is going to be wed
To the Princess Royal of Denmark.” “Ay, so I hear it is said,
And she'll be a grand young lady, there's no doubt at all; but you see
I never set eyes on the Prince in my life, and he knows nought about me.”
To the Princess Royal of Denmark.” “Ay, so I hear it is said,
And she'll be a grand young lady, there's no doubt at all; but you see
I never set eyes on the Prince in my life, and he knows nought about me.”
“And what other news have you got, neighbour?” “Oh terrible news: abroad
The great Garibaldi's taken and wounded.” “Was he some Lord
Or King? But I know so little of these people beyond the sea,
They seem to be always fighting, it's a pity they cannot agree.”
The great Garibaldi's taken and wounded.” “Was he some Lord
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They seem to be always fighting, it's a pity they cannot agree.”
“Why, then, if you come to fighting, the Yankees are at it still,
As hard as ever they were at the first.” “Well, they must then, if they will.
I suppose they're a sort of cousins of ours; but then they're so very far
Removed, that it doesn't much matter to us how long they go on with the war.”
As hard as ever they were at the first.” “Well, they must then, if they will.
I suppose they're a sort of cousins of ours; but then they're so very far
Removed, that it doesn't much matter to us how long they go on with the war.”
“Now there you are out for once, neighbour, for it's neither more nor less
Than their keeping up of this war so long that's causing our great distress.
They've given up growing their cotton, and sending us any to spin,
And that's the way things keep going wrong, you see, when once they begin.
Than their keeping up of this war so long that's causing our great distress.
They've given up growing their cotton, and sending us any to spin,
And that's the way things keep going wrong, you see, when once they begin.
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“You're not a reader like me, neighbour, or you wouldn't soon forget
The things that they tell in the papers; my word, but they're sharply set
In Lancashire now; and it's my belief, that if things don't soon work through
They'll be taking to dying off pretty fast, if they've nothing else left them to do.
The things that they tell in the papers; my word, but they're sharply set
In Lancashire now; and it's my belief, that if things don't soon work through
They'll be taking to dying off pretty fast, if they've nothing else left them to do.
“Why now, how would you like it, neighbour? I think you would look rather blank
If you hadn't a shilling left in the house, nor a guinea left in the Bank,
If first you'd to part with your silver watch, and then with your handsome clock,
And then with your quilt, and blankets, and bed, till at last you came to the stock!
If you hadn't a shilling left in the house, nor a guinea left in the Bank,
If first you'd to part with your silver watch, and then with your handsome clock,
And then with your quilt, and blankets, and bed, till at last you came to the stock!
“Until when you looked about your room there was nothing to see at all
But just a table, perhaps, and a chair, and the roof and the floor and the wall.
And how would you like to sell your best black coat that you've worn so long?
Or your wife to have to go out and pawn her good Sunday cloak for a song?”
But just a table, perhaps, and a chair, and the roof and the floor and the wall.
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Or your wife to have to go out and pawn her good Sunday cloak for a song?”
“I shouldn't like it at all, neighbour; and as to my wife, why she
Would take on, perhaps, if all were known, a great deal worse than me.”
“And then when there's nothing to do, you see, there's always so little to eat;
And only think of the children, neighbour, how they must be missing their meat!
Would take on, perhaps, if all were known, a great deal worse than me.”
“And then when there's nothing to do, you see, there's always so little to eat;
And only think of the children, neighbour, how they must be missing their meat!
“Now there's that curly Jem of yours, that likes nothing he gets so well
As what he gets with his granny and you, as I've heard you so often tell,
That just when you're sitting down to your meat he's sure to come peeping in,
You wouldn't like it so well, neighbour, to see him growing thin.”
As what he gets with his granny and you, as I've heard you so often tell,
That just when you're sitting down to your meat he's sure to come peeping in,
You wouldn't like it so well, neighbour, to see him growing thin.”
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“I shouldn't like it at all, neighbour, I tell you, but where's the good
Of talking when folks are starving? sure I'd help them if I could.”
“Well, there's nothing so easy as that, neighbour, you haven't got far to send—
It's only like taking a bit of your dinner across to an ailing friend.”
Of talking when folks are starving? sure I'd help them if I could.”
“Well, there's nothing so easy as that, neighbour, you haven't got far to send—
It's only like taking a bit of your dinner across to an ailing friend.”
“Why, not quite so easy as that, neighbour, for if things are as bad as you say,
It's little to better them that we can do by giving them once in a way.”
“Well, giving them once in a way perhaps would come rather short; but then
There is nothing to stop us, that I can see, from giving them once and again.”
It's little to better them that we can do by giving them once in a way.”
“Well, giving them once in a way perhaps would come rather short; but then
There is nothing to stop us, that I can see, from giving them once and again.”
“Why that's very pretty talk, neighbour, but then to be always giving
Doesn't come quite so easy to folks like us that have to work hard for our living.”
“Well, as to the matter of that, neighbour, if we haven't got much to spare
There'll just be the less to send, but still we may always have something to share.
Doesn't come quite so easy to folks like us that have to work hard for our living.”
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There'll just be the less to send, but still we may always have something to share.
“We might all of us give far more than we do, without being a bit the worse;
It was never yet loving that emptied the heart, or giving that emptied the purse.
We must be like the woman our Saviour praised, and do but the best we can.”
“Ay, that'll be just the plan, neighbour, that'll be just the plan.”
It was never yet loving that emptied the heart, or giving that emptied the purse.
We must be like the woman our Saviour praised, and do but the best we can.”
“Ay, that'll be just the plan, neighbour, that'll be just the plan.”
| Poems (1867) | |