Thomas Hood

With fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat in unwomanly rags,
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With fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread.

O bed! O bed! delicious bed!
That heaven upon earth to the weary head.

O bed! O bed! delicious bed!
That heaven upon earth to the weary head.

Father of rosy day,
No more thy clouds of incense rise;
But waking flow'rs,
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Father of rosy day,
No more thy clouds of incense rise;
But waking flow'rs,
At morning hours,
Give out their sweets to meet thee in the skies.

A man perfect to the finger tips.

A man perfect to the finger tips.

Alas! for the rarity
Of Christian charity
Under the sun.
Oh! it was pitiful!
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Alas! for the rarity
Of Christian charity
Under the sun.
Oh! it was pitiful!
Near a whole city full,
Home had she none.