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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=413279" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Hungry Day</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I MIND him well, he was a quare ould chap,<br>Come like meself from swate ould Erin's sod;<br>He hired me wanst to help his harvest in-<br>The crops was fine that summer, praised be God!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He found us, Rosie, Mickie, an' meself,<br>Just landed in the emigration shed;<br>Meself was tyin' on their bits of clothes;<br>Their mother-rest her tender sowl!-was dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It's not meself can say of what she died:<br>But 'twas the year the praties felt the rain,<br>An' rotted in the soil; an' just to dhraw<br>The breath of life was one long hungry pain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If we wor haythens in a furrin land,<br>Not in a country grand in Christian pride,<br>Faith, then a man might have the face to say<br>'Twas of stharvation me poor Sheila died.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But whin the parish docthor come at last,<br>Whin death was like a sun-burst in her eyes-<br>They looked straight into Heaven-an' her ears<br>Wor deaf to the poor children's hungry cries,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He touched the bones stretched on the mouldy sthraw:<br>'She's gone!' he says, and drew a solemn frown;<br>'I fear, my man, she's dead.' 'Of what?' says I.<br>He coughed, and says, 'She's let her system down!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'An' that's God's truth!' says I, an' felt about<br>To touch her dawney hand, for all looked dark;<br>An' in me hunger-bleached, shmall-beatin' heart,<br>I felt the kindlin' of a burnin'spark.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'O by me sowl, that is the holy truth!<br>There's Rosie's cheek has kept a dimple still,<br>An' Mickie's eyes are bright-the craythur there<br>Died that the weeny ones might eat their fill.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An' whin they spread the daisies thick an' white<br>Above her head that wanst lay on me breast,<br>I had no tears, but took the childher's hands,<br>An' says, 'We'll lave the mother to her rest.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An' och! the sod was green that summer's day,<br>An' rainbows crossed the low hills, blue an' fair;<br>But black an' foul the blighted furrows stretched,<br>An' sent their cruel poison through the air.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An' all was quiet-on the sunny sides<br>Of hedge an' ditch the stharvin' craythurs lay,<br>An' thim as lacked the rint from empty walls<br>Of little cabins wapin' turned away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">God's curse lay heavy on the poor ould sod,<br>An' whin upon her increase His right hand<br>Fell with'ringly, there samed no bit of blue<br>For Hope to shine through on the sthricken land.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No facthory chimblys shmoked agin the sky.<br>No mines yawned on the hills so full an' rich;<br>A man whose praties failed had nought to do<br>But fold his hands an' die down in a ditch.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A flame rose up widin me feeble heart,<br>Whin, passin' through me cabin's hingeless dure,<br>I saw the mark of Sheila's coffin in<br>The grey dust on the empty earthen flure.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I lifted Rosie's face betwixt me hands;<br>Says I, 'Me girleen, you an' Mick an' me<br>Must lave the green ould sod an' look for food<br>In thim strange countries far beyant the sea.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An' so it chanced, whin landed on the sthreet,<br>Ould Dolan, rowlin' a quare ould shay<br>Came there to hire a man to save his wheat,<br>An' hired meself and Mickie by the day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'An' bring the girleen, Pat,' he says, an' looked<br>At Rosie, lanin' up agin me knee;<br>'The wife will be right plaised to see the child,<br>The weeney shamrock from beyant the sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'We've got a tidy place, the saints be praised!<br>As nice a farm as ever brogan trod.<br>A hundered acres-us as never owned<br>Land big enough to make a lark a sod.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Bedad,' says I, 'I heerd them over there<br>Tell how the goold was lyin' in the sthreet,<br>An' guineas in the very mud that sthuck<br>To the ould brogans on a poor man's feet.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Begorra, Pat,' says Dolan, 'may ould Nick<br>Fly off wid thim rapscallions, schaming rogues,<br>An' sind thim thrampin' purgatory's flure<br>Wid red hot guineas in their polished brogues!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Och, thin,' says I, 'meself agrees to that!'<br>Ould Dolan smiled wid eyes so bright an' grey;<br>Says he, 'Kape up yer heart; I never kew<br>Since I come out a single hungry day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'But thin I left the crowded city sthreets-<br>Th'are men galore to toil in thim an' die;<br>Meself wint wid me axe to cut a home<br>In the green woods beneath the clear, swate sky.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'I did that same; an' God be praised this day!<br>Plenty sits smilin' by me own dear dure;<br>An' in them years I never wanst have seen<br>A famished child creep tremblin' on me flure.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I listened to ould Dolan's honest words:<br>That's twenty years ago this very spring,<br>An' Mick is married, an' me Rosie wears<br>A swateheart's little shinin' goulden ring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Twould make yer heart lape just to take a look<br>At the green fields upon me own big farm;<br>An' God be praised! all men may have the same<br>That owns an axe an' has a strong right arm!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Isabella+Valancy+Crawford">Isabella Valancy Crawford</a><div class=q>
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<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=413279" data-title="A Hungry Day de Isabella Valancy Crawford" data-description="I MIND him well, he was a quare ould chap,
Come like meself from swate ould Erin's sod;
He hired me wanst to help his harvest in-
The crops was fine that summer, praised be God!

He found us, Rosie, Mickie, an' meself,
Just landed in the emigratio..."></div>
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