I am a washer-woman Scrubbing, scrubbing -- In my heart A white hand Lengthens graceful fingers Over black and ivory keys. You are a poet Dreaming, dreaming -- In your heart Is there ever A strong, red hand Wiping toil's damp brow? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COMPLAINT OF THE ABSENCE OF HER LOVER BEING UPON THE SEA by HENRY HOWARD TO LUCY, COUNTESS OF BEDFORD, WITH MR. DONNE'S SATIRES by BEN JONSON TO MY NINETH DECADE by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR ON THE SITE OF A MULBERRY-TREE PLANTED BY SHAKESPEARE ... by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE YOUTH OF MAN by MATTHEW ARNOLD A LUNCHEON (THOMAS HARDY ENTERTAINS THE PRINCE OF WALES) by HENRY MAXIMILIAN BEERBOHM |