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67
Sony of the shirt med sin sorgliga refrain: Stitcliing at once
a skirt and a shroud, (sömmande på en gång en skjorta och
en svepning), syftande på den olyckliga sömmerskans öde,
Witli fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat, in unwomanly rags,
Plying lier needle and tliread —
Stitch, stitch, stitclil
In poverty, liunger and dirt,
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch
She sang the »Song of the slint»!
»Work! work! work!
While the cock is crowing aloof!
And work! work! work!
Till the stars shine through the roof!
Ifs oh! to be a slave
Along with the barbarous Turk,
When woman has never a soul to säve,
lf this is Christian work!
»Work! work! work!
Till the brain bcgins to swim;
Work! work! work!
Till the eyes are heavy and dim!
Seam, and gusset, and band,
Band, and gusset, and seam,
Till over the buttons I fall asleep,
And sew t hem ön in a drcam!
»Oh, men, with sisters dear!
Oh, men, with mothers and wives!
It is not linen youre wearing out,
But human creatures’ lives!
Stitch! stitch! stitch!
In poverty, hunger and dirt,
Sewing at once, with a double tliread,
A shroud as well as a shirt.
»But why do I talk of deatli?
That phantom of grisly bone,
I hardly fear his terrible shape,
It seems so like my own. . .
It seems so like my owu,
Because of the fästs I keep;
Oh, God! that bread should be so dear,
And flesh and blood sö eheap!
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