The Working Man - A poem by Emory T. Burfield

The Working Man.

Dear wife, I don't know what to do^__
   I have done my very best
To gain a home for you,
   And a place for you to rest.

I have traveled hard all day,
   Till my poor head does throb-
I would work for little pay,
   If I could only find a job.

O wife, to hear our children crying for bread,
   While our clothes are in a plight,
It would be better if we were dead,
   And roaming with the angels of light.

O wife, why do not look so sad;
   Let me kiss those tears away;
For I know it is too bad
   That I can't find work to-day.

Do not weep, dear wife,
   Come lay your head upon my breast,
It may be misery in this life,
   But in heaven there is rest.

But, wife, I will try again,
   To find some work to-day;
We will not give up in vain^__
   While to heaven we will pray.

^__Emory T. Burfield.

Poets and Poetry of Kansas
Edited by Thomas W. Herringshaw
(Chicago: American Publishers' Association. 1894)
Page 253