A woman's is a sorry lot, <br />As many a one would say; <br />We do so many, many things <br />Invisible each day. <br />Our hearts grow heavy with the load <br />Of success that's been ignored. <br />"Impossible, " you men would cry, <br />"Why time has not been made <br />For us to go a-looking <br />For all the things you say, <br />For us to find those little things <br />And praise you to the sky." <br />But that is not what we would ask <br />Although it sounds that way: <br />For if you'd see the good we do <br />Each time that you are here, <br />The many things that never show <br />Won't be so hard to bear. <br />But if you're always finding fault <br />And never see the good <br />We say it isn't worth it <br />To please him if we could. <br />And soon we won't admit our faults <br />For that's already done <br />By men who've watched and counted <br />Every little one.<br /><br />Adeline Foster<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/woman-s-lot/
