Wednesday, 1 October 2014

Poetry - When Stretch'd on Ones Bed

I promise - there will be a sewing post soon! I just run into all these poems when trying to find one that may suit the mid 19th century baby petticoat I'm working on.... (Btw, if any of you have just the thing, please share!) This one struck a note, as I've had head aches on a regular basis since I was a young teenager, and knows how tough it can be. 

 

When Stretch'd on One's Bed 

By Jane Austen

 When stretch'd on one's bed
With a fierce-throbbing head,
Which preculdes alike thought or repose,
How little one cares
For the grandest affairs
That may busy the world as it goes!

How little one feels
For the waltzes and reels
Of our Dance-loving friends at a Ball!
How slight one's concern
To conjecture or learn
What their flounces or hearts may befall.

How little one minds
If a company dines
On the best that the Season affords!
How short is one's muse
O'er the Sauces and Stews,
Or the Guests, be they Beggars or Lords.

How little the Bells,
Ring they Peels, toll they Knells,
Can attract our attention or Ears!
The Bride may be married,
The Corse may be carried
And touch nor our hopes nor our fears.

Our own bodily pains
Ev'ry faculty chains;
We can feel on no subject besides.
Tis in health and in ease
We the power must seize
For our friends and our souls to provide.

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