An Address To The Steam Washing Company Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Archer How many are there Scrub	A
Scrub Five and forty Sir Beaux' Stratagem	B
	-
For shame let the linen alone M W of Windsor	C
	-
	-
Mr Scrub Mr Slop or whoever you be	D
The Cock of Steam Laundries the head Patentee	E
Of Associate Cleansers Chief founder and prime	F
Of the firm for the wholesale distilling of grime	F
Co partners and dealers in linen's propriety	E
That make washing public and wash in society	E
O lend me your ear if that ear can forego	G
For a moment the music that bubbles below	G
From your new Surrey Geisers all foaming and hot	E
That soft simmer's sang so endear'd to the Scot	E
If your hands may stand still or your steam without danger	C
If your suds will not cool and a mere simple stranger	C
Both to you and to washing may put in a rub	A
O wipe out your Amazon arms from the tub	A
And lend me your ear Let me modestly plead	E
For a race that your labors may soon supersede	E
For a race that now washing no living affords	H
Like Grimaldi must leave their aquatic old boards	H
Not with pence in their pockets to keep them at ease	I
Not with bread in the funds or investments of cheese	I
But to droop like sad willows that liv'd by a stream	J
Which the sun has suck'd up into vapor and steam	J
Ah look at the laundress before you begrudge	K
Her hard daily bread to that laudable drudge	K
When chanticleer singeth his earliest matins	I
She slips her amphibious feet in her pattens	I
And beginneth her toil while the morn is still gray	L
As if she was washing the night into day	L
Not with sleeker or rosier fingers Aurora	M
Beginneth to scatter the dewdrops before her	C
Not Venus that rose from the billow so early	E
Look'd down on the foam with a forehead more pearly	E
Her head is involv'd in an a rial mist	E
And a bright beaded bracelet encircles her wrist	E
Her visage glows warm with the ardor of duty	E
She's Industry's moral she's all moral beauty	E
Growing brighter and brighter at every rub	A
Would any man ruin her No Mr Scrub	A
No man that is manly would work her mishap	N
No man that is manly would covet her cap	N
Nor her apron her hose nor her gown made of stuff	O
Nor her gin nor her tea nor her wet pinch of snuff	O
Alas so she thought but that slippery hope	P
Has betrayed her as tho' she had trod on her soap	P
And she whose support like the fishes that fly	Q
Was to have her fins wet must now drop from her sky	Q
She whose living it was and a part of her fare	R
To be damp'd once a day like the great white sea bear	R
With her hands like a sponge and her head like a mop	S
Quite a living absorbent that revell'd in slop	S
She that paddled in water must walk upon sand	E
And sigh for her deeps like a turtle on land	E
	-
Lo then the poor laundress all wretched she stands	I
Instead of a counterpane wringing her hands	I
All haggard and pinch'd going down in life's vale	T
With no fagot for burning like Allan a dale	T
No smoke from her flue and no steam from her pane	U
There once she watch'd heaven fearing God and the rain	U
Or gaz'd o'er her bleach field so fairly engross'd	E
Till the lines wander'd idle from pillar to post	E
Ah where are the playful young pinners ah where	R
The harlequin quilts that cut capers in air	R
The brisk waltzing stockings the white and the black	V
That danced on the tight rope or swung on the slack	V
The light sylph like garments so tenderly pinn'd	E
That blew into shape and embodied the wind	E
There was white on the grass there was white on the spray	L
Her garden it looked like a garden of May	L
But now all is dark not a shirt's on a shrub	A
You've ruin'd her prospects in life Mr Scrub	A
You've ruin'd her custom now families drop her	C
From her silver reduc'd nay reduc'd from her copper	C
The last of her washing is done at her eye	Q
One poor little kerchief that never gets dry	Q
From mere lack of linen she can't lay a cloth	W
And boils neither barley nor alkaline broth	W
But her children come round her as victuals grow scant	E
And recall with foul faces the source of their want	E
When she thinks of their poor little mouths to be fed	E
And then thinks of her trade that is utterly dead	E
And even its pearlashes laid in the grave	X
Whilst her tub is a dry rotting stave after stave	X
And the greatest of Coopers ev'n he that they dub	A
Sir Astley can't bind up her heart or her tub	A
Need you wonder she curses your bones Mr Scrub	A
Need you wonder when steam has depriv'd her of bread	E
If she prays that the evil may visit your head	E
Nay scald all the heads of your Washing Committee	E
If she wishes you all the soot blacks of the city	E
In short not to mention all plagues without number	C
If she wishes you all in the Wash at the Humber	C
	-
Ah perhaps in some moment of drowth and despair	R
When her linen got scarce and her washing grew rare	R
When the sum of her suds might be summ'd in a bowl	Y
And the rusty cold iron quite enter'd her soul	Y
When perhaps the last glance of her wandering eye	Q
Had caught the Cock Laundresses' Coach going by	Q
Or her lines that hung idle to waste the fine weather	C
And she thought of her wrongs and her rights both together	C
In a lather of passion that froth'd as it rose	I
Too angry for grammar too lofty for prose	I
On her sheet if a sheet were still left her to write	E
Some remonstrance like this then perchance saw the light	E

Thomas Hood

An Address To The Steam Washing Company Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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