Poems (Southey)/Volume 2/The Complaints of the Poor
The COMPLAINTS of the POOR.
And wherefore do the Poor complain? The rich man asked of me,— Come walk abroad with me, I said And I will answer thee.
'Twas evening and the frozen streets Were cheerless to behold, And we were wrapt and coated well, And yet we were a cold.
We met an old bare-headed man, His locks were few and white, I ask'd him what he did abroad In that cold winter's night:
'Twas bitter keen indeed, he said, But at home no fire had he, And therefore he had come abroad To ask for charity.
We met a young bare-footed child, And she begg'd loud and bold, I ask'd her what she did abroad When the wind it blew so cold;
She said her father was at home And he lay sick a-bed, And therefore was it she was sent Abroad to beg for bread.
We saw a woman sitting down Upon a stone to rest, She had a baby at her back And another at her breast;
I ask'd her why she loiter'd there When the wind it was so chill; She turn'd her head and bade the child That scream'd behind be still.
She told us that her husband served A soldier, far away, And therefore to her parish she Was begging back her way.
We met a girl; her dress was loose And sunken was her eye, Who with the wanton's hollow voice Address'd the passers by;
I ask'd her what there was in guilt That could her heart allure To shame, disease, and late remorse? She answer'd, she was poor.
I turn'd me to the rich man then For silently stood he, You ask'd me why the Poor complain, And these have answer'd thee.