A Chant

A Chant written by William Henry Davies

From "True Travellers", 1923

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With all our mirth, I doubt if we shall be
Like Martha here, in her serenity,
When we're her age; who goes from bed to bed
To wash the faces of the newly dead;
To close their staring eyes and comb their hair,
To cross their hands and change the linen there;
Who helps the midwives to give strength and breath
To babes, by almost beating them to death
With a wet towel; and half drowns them too,
Until their tender flesh is black and blue.
Not all the revels, Martha, we have been to
Can give us, when we're old, a peace like yours -
Due to the corpses you have gone and seen to.

This work is in the public domain in countries where the copyright term is the author's life plus 70 years or less.