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" When, packed in one reeking chamber, Man, maid, mother, and little ones lay; While the rain pattered in on the rotting bride-bed, And the walls let in the day. 'When we lay in the burning fever On the mud of the cold clay floor, Till you parted us all... "
The North American Miscellany - Стр. 96
1851
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A Present to Youths & Young Men ...: Printed for Private Circulation ..., Том 2

Edmund Shorthouse - 1891
...meat, And your barely-fed hares robbed the Garden, At our starving children's feet. " We lived like the brutes, and who wonders ? What self-respect could...Worse housed than your hacks, and your pointers, Worse housed than your hogs, and your sheep ! " She looked at the long tufts of clover, Where rabbit, or...
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Illegitimacy, and The Influence of Seasons Upon Conduct: Two Studies in ...

Albert Leffingwell - 1892 - Страниц: 160
...temptation. Charles Kingsley indeed has made the poacher's widow thus excuse her children's shame : — " We quarrelled like brutes, and who wonders ? What...and your pointers, Worse fed than your hogs and your sheep ? " Our daughters, with base-born babies, Have wandered away in their shame ; If your misses...
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Yeast: A Problem

Charles Kingsley - 1893 - Страниц: 378
...the cold clay floor, Till you parted us all for three months, squire, At the cursed workhouse door. " 'We quarrelled like brutes, and who wonders! What...could we keep, Worse housed than your hacks and your pointer*, Worse fed than your hogs and your sheep ?' " " And yet he has the impudence to say he don't...
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The American Federationist, Том 7

1900
...squire, At the cursed workhouse door. We quarreled like brutes, and who wonders? What self respect could we keep, Worse housed than your hacks and your pointers. Worse fed than your hogs and your sheep? Our daughters with base-born bablea Have wandered away In their shame ; If your misses had slept,...
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The Living Age ..., Том 282

1914
...dull imagination and the fact that one has never been easy, will never make it anything but hard to be "Worse housed than your hacks and your pointers, Worse fed than your hogs and your sheep." At thirty, Ann was an old woman, with hardly any of the gleaming row of strong teeth left,...
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Novels, Poems and Letters of Charles Kingsley: Letters and memories, ed. by ...

Charles Kingsley - 1899
...rain pattered in on the rotting bride-bed, And the walls let in the day. " When we lay in the burning fever On the mud of the cold clay floor, Till you parted us all for three months, squire, At the dreary workhouse door. " We quarrelled like brutes, and who wonders ? What self-respect could we keep,...
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The World's Best Poetry ...

John Vance Cheney, Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts, Charles Francis Richardson, Francis Hovey Stoddard, John Raymond Howard - 1904
...the cold clay floor, Till you parted us all for three months, squire, At the cursed workhouse door. "We quarrelled like brutes, and who wonders? What...and your pointers, Worse fed than your hogs and your sheep ? " Our daughters, with base-born babies, Have wandered away in their shame ; If your misses...
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The World's Best Poetry ...

1904
...rain pattered in on the rotten bride-bed, And the walls let in the day; 4i When we lay in the burning fever, On the mud of the cold clay floor, Till you...parted us all for three months, squire, At the cursed workhouse door. "We quarrelled like brutes, and who wonders? What self-respect could we keep, WTorse...
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Stokes' Encyclopedia of Familiar Quotations: Containing Five Thousand ...

1906 - Страниц: 763
...stands; we should only spoil it by trying to explain it, SHERIDAN, The Rivals, iv, 3 Quarrelled, — We quarrelled like brutes, and who wonders? What self-respect...and your pointers, Worse fed than your hogs and your sheep? KINGSLEY, The Bad Squire [A Rough Rhyme on a Rough Matter], st, 13 Quarrelling, — Besides...
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Poems

Charles Kingsley - 1907 - Страниц: 341
...rain pattered in on the rotting bride-bed, And the walls let in the day. ' When we lay in the burning fever On the mud of the cold clay floor, Till you parted us all for three months, squire, At the dreary workhouse door. ' We quarrelled like brutes, and who wonders ? What self-respect could we keep,...
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