1When winter's rage upon the cottage falls,
2And the wind rushes through the gaping walls,
3When ninepence must their daily wants supply,
4With hunger pinched and cold, the children cry;
5The gathered sticks but little warmth afford,
6And half-supplied the platter meets the board.
7Returned at night, if wholesome viands fail,
8He from the pipe extracts a smoky meal:
9And when, to gather strength and still his woes,
10He seeks his last redress in soft repose,
11The tattered blanket, erst the fleas' retreat,
12Denies his shiv'ring limbs sufficient heat;
13Teased with the squalling babes' nocturnal cries,
14He restless on the dusty pillow lies.
15But when pale sickness wounds with direful blow,
16Words but imperfectly his mis'ry show;
17Unskilful how to treat the fierce disease,
18Well-meaning ignorance curtails our days.
19In a dark room and miserable bed
20Together lie the living and the dead.
21Oh shocking scene! Fate sweeps whole tribes away,
22And frees the parish of th' reluctant pay!
23Where's the physician now, whom heav'n ordains
24Fate to arrest, and check corroding pains?
25Or he's detained by those of high degree,
26Or won't prescribe without a golden fee.
27But should old age bring on its rev'rend hoar,
28When strength decayed admits his toil no more,
29He begs itinerant, with halting pace,
30And, mournful, tells his melancholy case,
31With meagre cheek and formidable beard,
32A tattered dress of various rags prepared.
33Base covetise, who wants the soul to give,
34Directs the road where richer neighbours live;
35And pride, unmindful of its parent dust,
36Scares with the dungeon and the whipping-post.
1When winter's rage upon the cottage falls,
2And the wind rushes through the gaping walls,
3When ninepence must their daily wants supply,
4With hunger pinched and cold, the children cry;
5The gathered sticks but little warmth afford,
6And half-supplied the platter meets the board.
7Returned at night, if wholesome viands fail,
8He from the pipe extracts a smoky meal:
9And when, to gather strength and still his woes,
10He seeks his last redress in soft repose,
11The tattered blanket, erst the fleas' retreat,
12Denies his shiv'ring limbs sufficient heat;
13Teased with the squalling babes' nocturnal cries,
14He restless on the dusty pillow lies.
15But when pale sickness wounds with direful blow,
16Words but imperfectly his mis'ry show;
17Unskilful how to treat the fierce disease,
18Well-meaning ignorance curtails our days.
19In a dark room and miserable bed
20Together lie the living and the dead.
21Oh shocking scene! Fate sweeps whole tribes away,
22And frees the parish of th' reluctant pay!
23Where's the physician now, whom heav'n ordains
24Fate to arrest, and check corroding pains?
25Or he's detained by those of high degree,
26Or won't prescribe without a golden fee.
27But should old age bring on its rev'rend hoar,
28When strength decayed admits his toil no more,
29He begs itinerant, with halting pace,
30And, mournful, tells his melancholy case,
31With meagre cheek and formidable beard,
32A tattered dress of various rags prepared.
33Base covetise, who wants the soul to give,
34Directs the road where richer neighbours live;
35And pride, unmindful of its parent dust,
36Scares with the dungeon and the whipping-post.
When winter's rage upon the cottage falls,
And the wind rushes through the gaping walls,
When ninepence must their daily wants supply,
With hunger pinched and cold, the children cry;
The gathered sticks but little warmth afford,
And half-supplied the platter meets the board.
Returned at night, if wholesome viands fail,
He from the pipe extracts a smoky meal:
And when, to gather strength and still his woes,
He seeks his last redress in soft repose,
The tattered blanket, erst the fleas' retreat,
Denies his shiv'ring limbs sufficient heat;
Teased with the squalling babes' nocturnal cries,
He restless on the dusty pillow lies.
But when pale sickness wounds with direful blow,
Words but imperfectly his mis'ry show;
Unskilful how to treat the fierce disease,
Well-meaning ignorance curtails our days.
In a dark room and miserable bed
Together lie the living and the dead.
Oh shocking scene! Fate sweeps whole tribes away,
And frees the parish of th' reluctant pay!
Where's the physician now, whom heav'n ordains
Fate to arrest, and check corroding pains?
Or he's detained by those of high degree,
Or won't prescribe without a golden fee.
But should old age bring on its rev'rend hoar,
When strength decayed admits his toil no more,
He begs itinerant, with halting pace,
And, mournful, tells his melancholy case,
With meagre cheek and formidable beard,
A tattered dress of various rags prepared.
Base covetise, who wants the soul to give,
Directs the road where richer neighbours live;
And pride, unmindful of its parent dust,
Scares with the dungeon and the whipping-post.
Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.
Poems on Several Occasions — Take a look at a few pages from Poems on Several Occasions, the collection in which this poem appeared.
Poverty in James's Britain — Learn more about the very real problem of poverty in James's 18th-century world.
More of the Poem — Read a longer excerpt from "The Complaints of Poverty" (including James's remarks on what a life of poverty does to people's relationships and morality).