Ella Wheeler Wilcox
The Hen's Complaint
Beside an incubator stood
The would-be mother of a brood.
With drooping wings and nodding head,
These are the clucked-out words she said:
'O, vile invention of the age,
You fill me with a burning rage!
Unfeeling monster, moved by steam,
You rob me of life's sweetest dream!
Deprived of offspring which I crave,
I must go childless to my grave.
My aching wings which long to cover
A chirping brood of nestlings over,
No more may know that comfort sweet,
Since chickens may be hatched by heat.
Three weeks of quiet expectation
(Full many a flighty hen's salvation)
I am denied, for now men say
A hen should be content to lay,
And furnish eggs to incubate,
And setting hens are out of date.
Alas, for such a cruel fashion-'
The angry fowl paused, choked with passion,
While from behind a strong hand caught her
And doused her in a tub of water.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (The Hen's Complaint by Ella Wheeler Wilcox )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- A big thanks poem..., PARTHA SARATHI PAUL
- Not the One, Dean Meredith
- Bobwhite Calling, Kyle Schlicher
- Life, Death, Love! (Secret Message Poem), Ronald Chapman
- Bombs And Rain, Kyle Schlicher
- Prime Reasoning, F. J. Thomas
- Lets Try Again (Secret Message Poem), Ronald Chapman
- Let's Make Those Sad Tears Disappear (Se.., Ronald Chapman
- Hide and Seek, Dean Meredith
- In Rum, Beer, Brandy, Whiskey, See I My .., Bijay Kant Dubey