Page 15 - Poetry-Family

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Now here it is, in nut-shell small,
He split his toe through nail and all;
But doctor says it soon will heal
If quiet kept, and so I feel.
But he and I together think
That I must nurse him, give him drink,
And never let him fret or cry,
Lest he should from it nearly die.
This is one sample of one day,
Not near as bad as some, I say;
For husband was not here to fret,
And help the household to upset.
We ate cold dinner, did not cook,
And I had time to read your book,
I love to read, and would delight
In writing hours every night.
But oh, the thongs with which I’m tied
Leave little time for aught beside
The duties of each passing day,
Which I fulfill as best I may.

Will you accept what is enclosed?
And print it, if you’re so disposed,
Believing that I’ll ever be
Well-wisher and a friend to thee.

— R.O.A. (Demorest, 1872)

Single Blessedness

One can easily see his wife is away,
He wanders so restlessly through the livelong day,
Ever and ever down and up, up and down,
Where there’s usually a smile, there’s now nought but a frown.
For, let me tell you, he has to get his own dinner,
And that’s perfectly dreadful, you know, for a male sinner,
Fancy his washing potatoes and preparing the meat,
And so on ad infinitum, in order to get something to eat.

~ 13 ~