Classic and Contemporary Poetry
MISS KILMANSEGG AND HER PRECIOUS LEG: HER CHILDHOOD, by THOMAS HOOD Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Our youth! Our childhood! That spring of springs! Last Line: On the top of the fish street column? Subject(s): Children; Childhood | ||||||||
Our youth! our childhood! that spring of springs! 'Tis surely one of the blessdest things That nature ever invented! When the rich are wealthy beyond their wealth, And the poor are rich in spirits and health, And all with their lots contented! There's little Phelim, he sings like a thrush, In the selfsame pair of patchwork plush, With the selfsame empty pockets, That tempted his daddy so often to cut His throat, or jump in the water-but -- But what cares Phelim? an empty nut Would sooner bring tears to their sockets. Give him a collar without a skirt, That's the Irish linen for shirt, And a slice of bread, with a taste of dirt, That's Poverty's Irish butter, And what does he lack to make him blest? Some oyster-shells, or a sparrow's nest, A candle-end and a gutter. But to leave the happy Phelim alone, Gnawing, perchance, a marrowless bone, For which no dog would quarrel -- Turn we to little Miss Kilmansegg, Cutting her first little toothy-peg With a fifty guinea coral -- A peg upon which About poor and rich Reflection might hang a moral. Born in wealth, and wealthily nursed, Capp'd, papp'd, napp'd and lapp'd from the first On the knees of Prodigality, Her childhood was one eternal round Of the game of going on Tickler's ground Picking up gold -- in reality. With extempore carts she never play'd, Or the odds and ends of a Tinker's trade, Or little dirt pies and puddings made, Like children happy and squalid; The very puppet she had to pet, Like a bait for the 'Nix my Dolly' set, Was a Dolly of gold -- and solid! Gold! and gold! 'twas the burden still! To gain the Heiress's early goodwill There was much corruption and bribery -- The yearly cost of her golden toys Would have given half London's Charity Boys And Charity Girls the annual joys Of a holiday dinner at Highbury. Bon-bons she ate from the gilt cornet; And gilded queens on St Bartlemy's day; Till her fancy was tinged by her presents -- And first a goldfinch excited her wish, Then a spherical bowl with its Golden fish, And then two Golden Pheasant. Nay, once she squall'd and scream'd like wild -- And it shews how the bias we give to a child Is a thing most weighty and solemn: -- But whence was wonder or blame to spring If little Miss K., -- after such a swing -- Made a dust for the flaming gilded thing On the top of the Fish Street column? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE THREE CHILDREN by JOSEPHINE JACOBSEN CHILDREN SELECTING BOOKS IN A LIBRARY by RANDALL JARRELL COME TO THE STONE ... by RANDALL JARRELL THE LOST WORLD by RANDALL JARRELL A SICK CHILD by RANDALL JARRELL CONTINENT'S END by ROBINSON JEFFERS ON THE DEATH OF FRIENDS IN CHILDHOOD by DONALD JUSTICE THE POET AT SEVEN by DONALD JUSTICE |
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