REELY'S POETRY BLOG

Isn’t it funny how a poet can be pretty popular in their own day and then a century or so later, they’re mostly known by their association with another poet who wasn’t much appreciated in his own lifetime? Such seems to be the situation with Frances Sargent Osgood — Poe himself gave her good reviews — and now she is known more for her friendship with him than her own work since his post-mortem popularity has certainly eclipsed hers. At the time, such a scandalous scandal brewed around their friendship, that Poe was even rumored to be her youngest baby’s daddy! Mrs. Osgood was a couple of years younger than Poe and she passed away not even a year after Poe.

I found a poem by Mrs. Osgood that was in a 4th grade reader in 1869. It’s called Labor and I can’t imagine 4th graders liking this poem, then or now, but here it is, the way it appears in that book:

LABOR

1. Labor is rest — from the sorrows that greet us;
Rest from all petty vexations that meet us,
Rest from the sin-promptings that ever entreat us,
Rest from world-sirens that lure us to ill.

Work — and pure slumbers shall wait on the pillow,
Work — thou shalt ride over Care’s coming billow;
Lie not down wearied ‘neath Woe’s weeping willow!
Work with a stout heart and resolute’ will!

2. Labor is health! Lo the husbandman reaping,
How through his veins goes the life-current leaping;
How his strong arm, in its stalwart pride sweeping,
Free as a sunbeam the swift sickle guides.
Labor is wealth — in the sea the pearl groweth,
Rich the queen’s robe from the frail cocoon floweth,
From the fine acorn the strong forest bloweth,
Temple and statue the marble block hides.

3. Droop not, though shame, sin, and anguish are round thee
Bravely fling off the gold chain that hath bound thee;
Look to yon pure heaven smiling beyond thee,
Rest not content in thy darkness — a clod!
Work — for some good, be it ever so slowly;
Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly;
Labor! — all labor is noble and holy;
Let thy great deeds be thy prayer to thy God.

4. Pause not to dream of the future before us;
Pause not to weep the wild cares that come o’er us;
Hark how Creation’s deep, musical chorus,
Unintermitting goes up into Heaven!
Never the ocean-wave falters in flowing ;
Never the little seed stops in its growing;
More and more richly the rose-heart keeps glowing,
Till from its nourishing stem it is riven.

5. “Labor is worship!”—the robin is singing,
“Labor is worship!” the wild bee is ringing.
Listen! that eloquent whisper upspringing,
Speaks to thy soul from out nature’s great heart.
From the dark cloud flows the life-giving shower;
From the rough sod blows the soft breathing flower;
From the small insects, the rich coral bower:
Only man in the plan ever shrinks from his part.

6. Labor is life! — ’tis the still water faileth;
Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth:
Keep the watch wound for the dark rust assaileth!
Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon.
Labor is glory!—the flying cloud lightens;
Only the waving wing changes and brightens;
Idle hearts only the dark future frightens;
Play the sweet keys, wouldst thou keep them in tune!

By 1892, the same poem was still appearing in books for students. It appears in a book called “Selection for Memorizing” for Primary, Intermediate and High School Grades — only by now the first three stanzas have disappeared and the poem begins, unnumbered, with Stanza 4.

By 1914, only one stanza of the poem is included in “The Carter Intermediate Reader.” Click on the link to find out which one if you want to know.

Now you know more than all those kids in 1914 who probably thought that was the whole poem.