They're always abusing the women,
As a terrible plague to men:
They say we're the root of all evil,
And repeat it again and again;
Of war, and quarrels, and bloodshed,
All mischief, be what it may!
And pray, then, why do you marry us,
If we're all the plagues you say?
And why do you take such care of us,
And keep us so safe at home,
And are never easy a moment
If ever we chance to roam?
When you ought to be thanking heaven
That your Plague is out of the way,
You all keep fussing and fretting--
'Where is _my_ Plague to-day?'
If a Plague peeps out of the window,
Up go the eyes of men;
If she hides, then they all keep staring
Until she looks out again.
A very perceptive and well expressed poem. Brilliantly crafted.
Well articuated and nicely brought forth with conviction. A work of an intricate mind
Most fantastique poem, full of wit and truth! So very modern in style and content, you would think it was written today. One more time we can say, good Poetry stays young and communicates even written centuries ago in eternal and timeless splendor!
You all keep fussing and fretting- 'Where is _my_ Plague to-day? '...............superb
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Excellent write dear poet.women are never the plagues of men.CONGRATS.