Sunday Morning Musings: Mouthy Cobwebs

I was looking for something today and as I was digging around in rarely entered cabinets, I became alarmingly aware of the dust and cobweb buildup residing behind closed doors (and all corners of my house). I wished briefly for the time to go after them with the vacuum, but instantly this poem came to mind. So if you are busy judging yourself (or someone else, for that matter!) for how well your house is kept up, take comfort in this lovely poem.

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Song for a Fifth Child

By Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth

empty the dustpan, poison the moth,

hang out the washing and butter the bread,

sew on a button and make up a bed.

Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?

She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I've grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue

(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

Dishes are waiting and bills are past due

(pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).

The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew

and out in the yard there's a hullabaloo

but I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.

Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?

(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,

for children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.

So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.

I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep