A Description of the Morning

Now hardly here and there a Hackney-coach

Appearing, show’d the ruddy morn’s approach.

Now Betty from her master’s bed had flown,

And softly stole to discompose her own.

The slipshod prentice from his master’s door,

Had par’d the dirt, and sprinkled round the floor.

Now Moll had whirl’d her mop with dex’trous airs,

Prepar’d to scrub the entry and the stairs.

The youth with broomy stumps began to trace

The kennel-edge, where wheels had worn the place.

The smallcoal-man was heard with cadence deep,

’Till drown’d in shriller notes of chimney-sweep.

Duns at his Lordship’s gate began to meet,

And brickdust Moll had scream’d through half a street.

The turnkey now his flock returning sees,

Duly let out a nights to steal for fees.

The watchful bailiffs take their silent stands,

And school-boys lag with satchels in their hands.

[ A Description of the Morning ] [ Verses on the Death of Dr Swift ]