Poems (Southey)/Volume 2/The Complaints of the Poor

by Robert Southey

The COMPLAINTS of the POOR.

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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.