A Description of the Morning

Now hardly here and there a hackney coach

Appearing, showed the ruddy morn's approach.

Now Betty from her master's bed has flown,

And softly stole to discompose her own.

The slipshod prentice from his master's door

Had pared the dirt, and sprinkled round the floor.

Now Moll had whirled her mop with dexterous airs,

Prepared 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 drowned in shriller notes of chimney-sweep.

Duns at his Lordship's gate began to meet;

And Brickdust Moll had screamed 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 schoolboys lag with satchels in their hands.

Jonathan Swift