Page:The works of Anna Laetitia Barbauld volume 1.djvu/287

Rh With bowed soul, full well ye ken the day Which week, smooth sliding after week, brings on Too soon;—for to that day nor peace belongs Nor comfort ; ere the first gray streak of dawn, The red-armed washers come and chase repose. Nor pleasant smile, nor quaint device of mirth, E'er visited that day : the very cat, From the wet kitchen scared and reeking hearth, Visits the parlour,—an unwonted guest. The silent breakfast-meal is soon dispatched; Uninterrupted, save by anxious looks Cast at the lowering sky, if sky should lower. From that last evil, O preserve us, heavens! For should the skies pour down, adieu to all Remains of quiet: then expect to hear Of sad disasters,—dirt and gravel stains Hard to efface, and loaded lines at once Snapped short, and linen-horse by dog thrown down, And all the petty miseries of life. Saints have been calm while stretched upon the rack,