A lonely child with toil o’ertaxed, <br />Sits Cinderella by the fire; <br />Her limbs in weariness relaxed, <br />And in her eyes a sad desire. <br />But soon a wreath is on her brow; <br />A bonny prince has claimed her hand; <br />And she’s as proud and happy now <br />As any lady in the land. <br /> <br />Ah, then to see a fairy bright, <br />And to have granted what you would, <br />You only needed to do right, <br />You only needed to be good. <br />But this was in the days of old, <br />When man to wiser folk would bow; <br />And though you were as good as gold <br />You’d never see a fairy now. <br /> <br />And yet they must have managed well <br />If only half the tales are true, <br />The wondrous tales the writers tell <br />Of what the fairies used to do. <br />But now the world has grown so wise <br />It does without the fairies’ aid; <br />And who can find a prince that tries <br />The shoe upon a beggar maid? <br /> <br />It must have been a better time <br />When virtue always met its due, <br />And “wicked men who dealt in crime” <br />Were punished by the fairies, too. <br />But never more they’ll come again <br />To give the good what they desire; <br />And Cinderellas wait in vain, <br />And weep beside the kitchen fire.<br /><br />Henry Lawson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cinderella-33/
