You might have paled Bernhardt's Camille Or Shakespeare's greenwood tree, Drowned out Shelly's skylark or The Chimes of Normandy. But you are beating parlor rugs And scraping kitchen soot, And washing window glass with grime Bound to you hand and foot. You might have walked in marble courts, Stood under frescoed domes; You might have climbed the Eiffel Tower And plumbed the catacombs. But you are bandaging stubbed toes And poulticing bee stings, And drying smudgy tears with grime Tied to your apron strings. And if it should touch your lips More bright than any chime, Or lark or flower or greenwood tree Is grime. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COTTAGER TO HER INFANT by DOROTHY WORDSWORTH THE LAMENTATION OF THE OLD PENSIONER (2) by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE BIRDS: THE BIRDS' LIFE by ARISTOPHANES THE MAUSOLEUM by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN TO DR. PRIESTLEY. DEC. 29, 1792 by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE WILD GEESE by MICHAEL JOSEPH BARRY MYSTERY OF MYSTERIES by MATHILDE BLIND |