'I want a parlourmaid.' <br />'Well, let me see <br />If you were God, what kind of maid she'd be.' <br />'She would be tall, <br />She would be fair, <br />She would have slender limbs, <br />A delicate air; <br />And yet for all her beauty <br />She would walk <br />Among my guests unseen <br />And through their talk <br />Her voice would be the sweet voice of a bird, <br />Not listened to, though heard.' <br />'And now I know the girl you have in mind <br />Tell me her duties, if you'd be so kind.' <br />'Why, yes! <br />She must know names of wines <br />And never taste them— <br />Must handle fragile cups <br />And never break them— <br />Must fill my rooms with flowers <br />And never wear them— <br />Must serve my daughter's secrets <br />And not share them.' <br />'Madam, you are no God, that's plain to see. <br />I'll just repeat what you have said to me. <br />You say your maid must look in Helen fashion <br />Golden and white <br />And yet her loveliness inspire no passion, <br />Give no delight. <br />Your intimate goods of home must owe their beauty <br />To this girl's care <br />But she'll not overstep her path of duty <br />Nor seek to share <br />Through loving or enjoying or possessing <br />The least of them. <br />Why, she's not human, by your own confessing, <br />And you condemn <br />Your rational self in every word you're speaking! <br />Please understand <br />You'll find the hollow maiden you are seeking <br />In fairyland.'<br /><br />Lesbia Harford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-parlourmaid/
