When we on simple rations sup
How easy is the washing up!
But heavy feeding complicates
The task by soiling many plates.
And though I grant that I have prayed
That we might find a serving-maid,
I'd scullion all my days, I think,
To see her smile across the sink!
I wash, she wipes. In water hot
I souse each dish and pan and pot;
While Taffy mutters, purrs, and begs,
And rubs himself against my legs.
The man who never in his life
Has washed the dishes with his wife
Or polishes up the silver plate-
He still is largely celibate.
One warning: there is certain ware
That must be handled with all care:
The Lord Himself will give you up
If you should drop a willow cup!
I like this simple little poem about dishes written by a man who has born in 1890!
I think we sometimes think before the feminine movement of the last generation that all men, especially married men, were hopelessly chauvinistic, rigidly adhereing to the unbending roles of male/female; husband/wife.
While my own husbands role in "helping around the house", and how my own father functioned in the home I grew up in, greatley differ, I think mainly from the generation gap, this poem shows that true love wants to see our mate happy.I will willingly serve them.
I especailly love the "celibate" line.
I wikapedia-ed Christopher Morley.
The following is a letter found a few days before the poet's death to his friends.
I thought I would include it, its really good:
" Read everyday, something no one else is reading.Think everyday , something no one else is thinking. Do everyday, something no one else would be silly enough to do. It is bad for the mind to be continually part of unanimity".