-
Articles/Ads
Article DESCRIPTION OF A PARISH WORKHOUSE. Page 1 of 1 Article TO MY LOVELY FRIEND. Page 1 of 1
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Description Of A Parish Workhouse.
DESCRIPTION OF A PARISH WORKHOUSE .
rpriERE ' in yon house that holds the parish poor , JL Whose walls of mud scarce bear the broken door ; There , where the putrid vapours flagging play , And the dull wheel hums doleful thro' the day ; There children dwell who know no parents ' care , Parents , who know no children ' s love , dwell there ; Heart-broken matrons on their joyless bed ,
Forsaken wives , and mothers never wed ; Dejected widows with unheeded tears , And crippled age with more than childhood fears ! The lame , the * blind , and , far the happiest they I The moping idiot , and the madman gay . Here too the sick their final doom receive , Here brought , amid the scenes of grief , to grieve ; Where the loud groans from some sad chamber flow ,
Mixt with the clamours of the crowd below ; Here sorrowing , they each kindred sorrow scan , And the cold charities of man to man . Whose Laws indeed for ruin'd age provide , And strong compulsion plucks the scrap from Pride ? But still that scrap is bought with many a sigh , And pride embitters what it can't deny .
Say ye , opprest by some fantastic woes , Some jarring nerve that baffles your repose ; Who press the downy couch , while slaves advance With timid eye , to read the distant glance ; Who with sad prayers the weary doctor teaze To name the nameless ever-new disease ; Who with mock-patience dire complaints endure , Which real painand that alonecan cure ;
, , How would ye bear in real pain to lie , Despis'd , neglected , left alone to die ? How would ye bear to draw your latest breath . Where all that's wretched paves the way for death ? Such is that room which one rude beam divides , And naked rafters form the sloping sides ; Where the vile bands that bind the thatch are seen .
And lath and mud is all that lie between ; Save one dull pane , that , coarsely patch'd , gives jvar To the rude tempest ; yet excludes the day ; Here , on a matted flock , with dust o ' erspread , The drooping wretch reclines his languid head ; For him no hand the cordial cup applies , Nor wipes the tear that stagnates in his eyes ; No friends with soft discourse his pain beguile , Nor promise hone till sickness wears a smile .
To My Lovely Friend.
TO MY LOVELY FRIEND .
On supposing her HEALTH impaired by some deep and unrevealei SORROW . FLOWN are those roses that illum'd thy cheek ; Tearful those eyes with love so wont to speak ; Those breasts , erst us'd on buoyant hope to rise , Now heave to find relief in tears and sighs . Could I , sweet Maid 1 thy latent anguish share , Assuage thy pangs , and lessen all thy care—Like Noah ' s dove , my feet should find no rest , Till it had plac'd the olive in thy breast , Stroud . FATHER PAUL ,
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Description Of A Parish Workhouse.
DESCRIPTION OF A PARISH WORKHOUSE .
rpriERE ' in yon house that holds the parish poor , JL Whose walls of mud scarce bear the broken door ; There , where the putrid vapours flagging play , And the dull wheel hums doleful thro' the day ; There children dwell who know no parents ' care , Parents , who know no children ' s love , dwell there ; Heart-broken matrons on their joyless bed ,
Forsaken wives , and mothers never wed ; Dejected widows with unheeded tears , And crippled age with more than childhood fears ! The lame , the * blind , and , far the happiest they I The moping idiot , and the madman gay . Here too the sick their final doom receive , Here brought , amid the scenes of grief , to grieve ; Where the loud groans from some sad chamber flow ,
Mixt with the clamours of the crowd below ; Here sorrowing , they each kindred sorrow scan , And the cold charities of man to man . Whose Laws indeed for ruin'd age provide , And strong compulsion plucks the scrap from Pride ? But still that scrap is bought with many a sigh , And pride embitters what it can't deny .
Say ye , opprest by some fantastic woes , Some jarring nerve that baffles your repose ; Who press the downy couch , while slaves advance With timid eye , to read the distant glance ; Who with sad prayers the weary doctor teaze To name the nameless ever-new disease ; Who with mock-patience dire complaints endure , Which real painand that alonecan cure ;
, , How would ye bear in real pain to lie , Despis'd , neglected , left alone to die ? How would ye bear to draw your latest breath . Where all that's wretched paves the way for death ? Such is that room which one rude beam divides , And naked rafters form the sloping sides ; Where the vile bands that bind the thatch are seen .
And lath and mud is all that lie between ; Save one dull pane , that , coarsely patch'd , gives jvar To the rude tempest ; yet excludes the day ; Here , on a matted flock , with dust o ' erspread , The drooping wretch reclines his languid head ; For him no hand the cordial cup applies , Nor wipes the tear that stagnates in his eyes ; No friends with soft discourse his pain beguile , Nor promise hone till sickness wears a smile .
To My Lovely Friend.
TO MY LOVELY FRIEND .
On supposing her HEALTH impaired by some deep and unrevealei SORROW . FLOWN are those roses that illum'd thy cheek ; Tearful those eyes with love so wont to speak ; Those breasts , erst us'd on buoyant hope to rise , Now heave to find relief in tears and sighs . Could I , sweet Maid 1 thy latent anguish share , Assuage thy pangs , and lessen all thy care—Like Noah ' s dove , my feet should find no rest , Till it had plac'd the olive in thy breast , Stroud . FATHER PAUL ,