Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE MONEY, by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: They found her cold upon the bed Last Line: Would buy her houseroom in the end. | ||||||||
They found her cold upon the bed. The cause of death, the doctor said, Was nothing save the lack of bread. Her clothes were but a sorry rag That barely hid the nakedness Of her poor body's piteous wreck: Yet, when they stripped her of her dress, They found she was not penniless; For, in a little silken bag, Tied with red ribbon round her neck, Was four-pound-seventeen-and-five. "It seems a strange and shameful thing That she should starve herself to death, While she'd the means to keep alive. Why, such a sum would keep the breath Within her body till she'd found A livelihood; and it would bring... But there is very little doubt She'd set her heart upon a grand And foolish funeral -- for the pride Of poor folk, who can understand! -- And so, because she was too proud To meet death penniless, she died." And talking, talking, they trooped out: And, as they went, I turned about To look upon her in her shroud; And saw again the quiet face That filled with light that shameful place, Touched with the tender, youthful grace Death brings the broken and outworn To comfort kind hearts left to mourn. And as I stood, the sum they'd found Rang with a queer, familiar ring Of some uncouth, uncanny sound Heard in dark ages underground; And "four-pound-seventeen-and-five" Through all my body seemed to sing, Without recalling anything To help me, strive as I might strive. But, as I stumbled down the stairs Into the alley's gloom and stench -- A whiff of burning oil That took me unawares -- And I knew all there was to tell. And though the rain in torrents fell, I walked on, heedless, through the drench... And all the while, I seemed to sit Upon a tub in Lansel pit; And in the candle-light to see John Askerton, a "deputy," Who paused awhile to talk with me, His kind face glistening black with toil. "'Twas here I found him dead, beside His engine. All the other men Were up -- for things were slack just then -- And I'd one foot upon the cage; When, all at once, I caught the smell Of burning. Even as I turned To see what it could be that burned, The seam behind was choked with stife. And so I dropped on hands and knees, And crawled along the gallery, Beneath the smoke, that I might see What ailed: and as I crept, half-blind, With smarting eyes, and breath awheeze, I scarcely knew what I should find. At times, I thought I'd never know... And 'twas already quite an age Since I set out ... I felt as though I had been crawling all my life Beneath the stifling cloud of smoke That clung about me fit to choke: And when, at last, I'd struggled here, 'Twas long ere I could see things clear... That he was lying here ... and he Was dead ... and burning like a tree... A tree-trunk soaked in oil ... No doubt, The engine had caught fire, somehow; And when he tried to put it out, His greasy clothes had caught ... and now! As fine a lad as you could see... And such a lad for singing ... I Had heard him when I worked hard by; And often quiet I would sit To hear him, singing in the pit, As though his heart knew naught of it And life was nothing but a song. "He'd not been working with us long: And little of his ways I knew: But when I'd got him up, at last, And he was lying in the shed, The sweet song silent in his breast, And there was nothing more to do; The notion came into my head That he had always been well-dressed; And seemed a neat and thrifty lad... And lived in lodgings ... so, maybe, Would carry on him all he had. So, back into the cage I stepped: And when it reached the bottom, crept Along the gallery again; And in the dust where he had lain, I rummaged, until I found all That from his burning pockets fell. And when it seemed there was no more, I thought how, happy and alive, And recking naught what might befall, He, too, for all that I could tell, Just where I stood, had reckoned o'er That four-pound-seventeen-and-five. "Ay, like enough ... for soon we heard That in a week he'd looked to wed. He'd meant to give the girl that night The money to buy furniture. She came, and watched till morning-light Beside the body in the shed: Then rose: and took, without a word, The money he had left for her." Then, as I wandered through the rain, I seemed to stand in awe again Beside that lonely garret-bed. And it was good to think the dead Had known the wealth she would not spend To keep a little while alive -- His four-pound-seventeen-and-five -- Would buy her houseroom in the end. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BETWEEN THE LINES by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON BREAKFAST by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON FLANNAN ISLE by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON FOR G. by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON GERANIUMS by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON LAMENT by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON RETREAT by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON RUPERT BROOKE by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON THE GORSE by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON THE ICE by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON |
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