<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=384631" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Hen's Complaint</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beside an incubator stood<br>The would-be mother of a brood.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With drooping wings and nodding head,<br>These are the clucked-out words she said:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'O, vile invention of the age,<br>You fill me with a burning rage!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Unfeeling monster, moved by steam,<br>You rob me of life's sweetest dream!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Deprived of offspring which I crave,<br>I must go childless to my grave.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My aching wings which long to cover<br>A chirping brood of nestlings over,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No more may know that comfort sweet,<br>Since chickens may be hatched by heat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Three weeks of quiet expectation<br>(Full many a flighty hen's salvation)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I am denied, for now men say<br>A hen should be content to lay,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And furnish eggs to incubate,<br>And setting hens are out of date.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alas, for such a cruel fashion-'<br>The angry fowl paused, choked with passion,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">While from behind a strong hand caught her<br>And doused her in a tub of water.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ella+Wheeler+Wilcox">Ella Wheeler Wilcox</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=384631" data-title="The Hen's Complaint de Ella Wheeler Wilcox" data-description="Beside an incubator stood The would-be mother of a brood. With drooping wings and nodding head, These are the clucked-out words she said: 'O, vile invention of the age, You fill me with a burning rage! Unfeeling monster, moved by steam, You rob..."></div> </div> </div>

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