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Poem by Jane Taylor


I saw an old cottage of clay,
And only of mud was the floor;
It was all falling into decay,
And the snow drifted in at the door.

Yet there a poor family dwelt,
In a hovel so dismal and rude;
And though gnawing hunger they felt,
They had not a morsel of food.

The children were crying for bread,
And to their poor mother theyd run;
Oh, give us some breakfast, they said,
Alas! their poor mother had none.

She viewed them with looks of despair,
She said (and Im sure it was true),
Tis not for myself that I care,
But, my poor little children, for you.

O then, let the wealthy and gay
But see such a hovel as this,
That in a poor cottage of clay
They may know what true misery is.

And what I may have to bestow
I never will squander away,
While many poor people I know
Around me are wretched as they.

Jane Taylor

Jane Taylor's other poems:
  1. The Squires Pew
  2. On Visiting Cowpers Garden and Summer-house at Olney
  3. The Poppy
  4. The Violet
  5. The Star

Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Robert Burns Poverty ("In politics if thou wouldst mix") 1793
  • Thomas Traherne Poverty ("As in the house I sate")
  • Henry Lawson Poverty ("I HATE this grinding poverty")

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