MR. KESSLER, you know, was in the army, And he drew six dollars a month as a pension, And stood on the corner talking politics, Or sat at home reading Grant's Memoirs; And I supported the family by washing, Learning the secrets of all the people From their curtains, counterpanes, shirts and skirts. For things that are new grow old at length, They're replaced with better or none at all: People are prospering or falling back. And rents and patches widen with time; No thread or needle can pace decay, And there are stains that baffle soap, And there are colors that run in spite of you, Blamed though you are for spoiling a dress. Handkerchiefs, napery, have their secrets -- The laundress, Life, knows all about it. And I, who went to all the funerals Held in Spoon River, swear I never Saw a dead face without thinking it looked Like something washed and ironed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON A FAN by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. CRADLED IN FLAME by EDWARD CARPENTER ON SEEING A YOUTH AFFECTIONATELY WELCOMED BY A SISTER by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE ON BATTELL'S CHIMES by O. H. COOPER JR. OLNEY HYMNS: 59. TRUE AND FALSE COMFORTS by WILLIAM COWPER THE WILD BEE'S TALE by GEORGE DARLEY ANNIE, DEAR by THOMAS OSBORNE DAVIS THE LADIES OF SAINT JAMES'S; A PROPER NEW BALLAD OF COUNTRY AND TOWN by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON |