“Pheu pheu, ti prosderkesthe m ommasin, tekna;” [Alas, alas, why do you gaze at me with your eyes, my children.] —Medea.
Do you hear the children weeping, O my brothers,
Before sorrow comes with years?
They lean their young heads against their mothers,
And that cannot stop their tears.
Young lambs bleat in the meadows;
Young birds chirp in the nest;
Young fawns play with the shadows;
Young flowers blow toward the west—
But the young children, O my brothers,
They weep bitterly!
They weep in the playtime of others,
In the country of the free.Do you question the young children in sorrow,
Why their tears fall so?
The old man may weep for his tomorrow,
Which is lost in long ago.
The old tree is leafless in the forest.
The old year ends in frost.
The old wound, if struck, is the most sore.
The old hope is hardest to lose:
But the young children, O my brothers,
Do you ask them why they stand,
Weeping sore before the bosoms of their mothers,
In our happy fatherland?They look up with pale, sunken faces,
And their looks are sad to see.
For the man’s grief is abhorrent, it draws and presses
Down the cheeks of infancy.
“Your old earth,” they say, “is very dreary.”
“Our young feet,” they say, “are very weak.”
Few steps have we taken, yet we are weary.
Our graves are very far to seek!
Ask the old why they weep, and not the children,
For the outside earth is cold.
And we young ones stand bewildered,
And the graves belong to the old.“True,” say the children, “it may happen that we die before our time.
Little Alice died last year; her grave is shaped like a snowball in the rime.
We looked into the pit prepared to take her.
There was no room for any work in the close clay.
From the sleep in which she lies, none will wake her, crying, “Get up, little Alice! It is day.”
If you listen at that grave, in sun and shower, with your ear close, little Alice never cries.
Could we see her face? We would not know her, for the smile grows in her eyes—
And merry go her moments, lulled and still in the shroud, by the kirk-chime!
It is good when it happens,” say the children, “that we die before our time!”Alas, the wretched children! They are seeking death in life, as best to have.
They bind their hearts away from breaking, with a shroud from the grave.
Go out, children, from the mine and from the city— sing out, children, as the little thrushes do—pluck handfuls of meadow-cowslips, pretty, laugh aloud, to feel your fingers let them through!
But they answer, “Are your cowslips of the meadow like our weeds near the mine? Leave us quiet in the dark of the coal shadows, from your pleasures fair and fine.”“For oh,” say the children, “we are weary, and we cannot run or leap.
If we cared for any meadow, it would be merely to drop down in it and sleep.
Our knees tremble sorely in stooping— we fall upon our faces, trying to go; and, underneath our heavy drooping eyelids, the reddest flower would look as pale as snow.
For all day, we drag our burden, tiring, through the coal-dark underground— or all day, we drive the wheels of iron in the factories, round and round.”For all day, the wheels drone and turn— their wind comes into our faces— until our hearts turn, our heads with pulses burning, and the walls turn in their places. They turn the sky in the high window, blank and reeling—turn the long light that drops down the wall—turn the black flies that crawl along the ceiling. All are turning all day, and we with all— and all day, the iron wheels drone; sometimes we could pray, “O ye wheels,” breaking out in a mad moaning, “Stop! Be silent for today!”
Ay! Be silent! Let them hear each other breathing for a moment, mouth to mouth.
Let them touch each other’s hands in a fresh wreathing of their tender human youth.
Let them feel that this cold metallic motion is not all the life God fashions or reveals.
Let them prove their inward souls against the notion that they live in you, or under you, O wheels.
Still, all day, the iron wheels go onward, as if Fate were stark. And the children’s souls, which God is calling sunward, spin blindly in the dark.Now tell the poor young children, O my brothers, to look up to Him and pray—so the blessed One, who blesses all the others, will bless them another day. They answer, “Who is God that He should hear us, while the rushing of the iron wheels is stirred? When we sob aloud, the human creatures near us pass by, hearing nothing, or answering not a word.
Is it likely that God, with angels singing round Him, hears our weeping any more?”Two words of prayer we remember: “Our Father,” at midnight’s hour of harm—looking upward in the chamber, we say softly for a charm.
We know no other words, except “Our Father,” and we think that, in some pause of angels’ song, God may pluck them with the silence sweet to gather, and hold both within His right hand, which is strong.
“If He heard us,” he would surely answer, smiling down the steep world purely, “Come and rest with me, my child.”But no! say the children, weeping faster, “He is speechless as a stone.”
They tell us that His image is the master who commands us to work.
Go to—say the children—up in Heaven—dark, wheel-like, turning clouds are all we find!
Do not mock us; grief has made us unbelieving. We look up for God, but tears have made us blind.Do you hear the children weeping and disproving, O my brothers, what you preach? For God’s possibility is taught by His world’s love, and the children doubt each.
And well may the children weep before you; they are weary ere they run.
They have never seen the sunshine, nor the glory that is brighter than the sun.
They know the grief of man without wisdom; they sink in despair without calm.
They are slaves without liberty, martyrs without palm, worn as if with age, yet no remembrance keeps.
Orphans of earthly love and heavenly—let them weep, let them weep.
Unveiling “The Cry of The Children”: A Powerful Plea for Justice
Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s “The Cry of The Children” stands as a monumental work of English poetry, a passionate and searing indictment of child labor during the Industrial Revolution. This poem does not merely describe suffering; it amplifies the voices of the voiceless, challenging society to confront the profound injustices inflicted upon its youngest members. Delve into this powerful piece of literature to understand its historical context, its central message, and the masterful poetic techniques that make it an enduring call for compassion and change.
The Cry of The Children: A Summary
“The Cry of The Children” vividly portrays the immense suffering and despair of young children forced into grueling labor in mines and factories. The poem opens with a direct, emotional appeal to “my brothers,” urging them to acknowledge the unnatural weeping of children who should be enjoying their youth. It contrasts the carefree existence of young animals and plants with the harsh reality of child laborers, whose lives are consumed by toil and sorrow. The children themselves speak, articulating their weariness, their premature aging, and their tragic longing for death as a release from their pain. They question the very existence of a benevolent God and the indifference of adults, highlighting a profound crisis of faith born from their relentless suffering. The poem serves as a powerful social commentary, exposing the moral failings of a society that allows such exploitation to persist.
The central idea of “The Cry of The Children” is the profound injustice of child labor and its devastating impact on the physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being of innocent children. It is a direct challenge to the conscience of Victorian society, urging empathy and action against the exploitation that robbed children of their childhood and hope.
A noteworthy aspect of this poem is its historical context. Published in 1843, it was a direct response to a report on child labor in mines and factories in England. Elizabeth Barrett Browning, a prominent poet of her time, used her art as a vehicle for social reform, contributing significantly to the growing public awareness that eventually led to legislative changes protecting children.
In-Depth Analysis of “The Cry of The Children”
Elizabeth Barrett Browning employs a range of literary and poetic devices to craft a deeply moving and persuasive argument against child labor. The poem’s structure, imagery, and direct address combine to create an unforgettable experience for the reader.
The Stark Contrast: Lost Innocence Versus Natural Joy
The poem immediately establishes a poignant contrast between the natural world and the unnatural suffering of the children. The opening stanzas juxtapose the joyful innocence of young creatures with the bitter tears of human children:
Young lambs bleat in the meadows;
Young birds chirp in the nest;
Young fawns play with the shadows;
Young flowers blow toward the west—
But the young children, O my brothers,
They weep bitterly!
This comparison highlights the profound tragedy of the children’s plight. Nature’s young thrive in freedom and play, while human children, in a supposedly “free” country, are denied even the most basic joys of childhood. The repetition of “young” emphasizes what these children are missing, making their sorrow all the more heartbreaking.
The Children’s Voice: A Direct Challenge to Adult Indifference
A powerful technique in the poem is the direct inclusion of the children’s voices. This shift from the narrator’s plea to the children’s own words makes their suffering immediate and undeniable. They articulate their weariness and premature aging with chilling clarity:
“Your old earth,” they say, “is very dreary.”
“Our young feet,” they say, “are very weak.”
Few steps have we taken, yet we are weary.
Our graves are very far to seek!
These lines reveal that the children are not merely tired; they are utterly exhausted, their bodies broken before their lives have truly begun. The phrase “Our graves are very far to seek!” is a tragic expression of their longing for the ultimate rest, suggesting that even death would be a welcome escape from their endless toil.
The Allure of Death: A Release from Suffering
Perhaps the most shocking aspect of the children’s perspective is their embrace of death as a merciful release. They recount the story of “Little Alice,” who died and found peace:
“It is good when it happens,” say the children, “that we die before our time!”
This statement is profoundly disturbing, as it reveals the depth of their despair. For these children, life is so unbearable that an early death is seen as a blessing. The image of Alice’s grave, “shaped like a snowball in the rime,” offers a stark, cold comfort, contrasting with the warmth and activity of life they are denied.
The Relentless Machinery: Symbol of Oppression
The industrial setting is vividly depicted through imagery of relentless machinery, which symbolizes the dehumanizing nature of their labor. The children describe their daily existence:
For all day, we drag our burden, tiring, through the coal-dark underground— or all day, we drive the wheels of iron in the factories, round and round.”
The “coal-dark underground” and “wheels of iron” are not just settings; they are active oppressors. The children’s lives are dictated by the ceaseless motion of these machines, which turn their bodies and minds into extensions of the industrial process. The poem further emphasizes this inescapable fate:
Still, all day, the iron wheels go onward, as if Fate were stark. And the children’s souls, which God is calling sunward, spin blindly in the dark.
Here, the wheels are personified as an unyielding “Fate,” crushing the children’s spirits and preventing them from reaching the “sunward” light of divine grace or natural joy.
Questioning Faith: A Crisis of Belief
The children’s suffering leads them to question the very foundations of faith and the existence of a compassionate God. Their prayers seem unheard, their pleas ignored by both humanity and divinity:
They answer, “Who is God that He should hear us, while the rushing of the iron wheels is stirred? When we sob aloud, the human creatures near us pass by, hearing nothing, or answering not a word.
Is it likely that God, with angels singing round Him, hears our weeping any more?”
This profound spiritual crisis underscores the depth of their despair. If even God is silent in the face of their agony, what hope remains? The contrast between the “angels singing round Him” and the “rushing of the iron wheels” highlights the chasm between heavenly peace and earthly torment.
Literary Devices in The Cry of The Children
Elizabeth Barrett Browning masterfully employs various literary devices to amplify the poem’s emotional impact and persuasive power.
Rhetorical Questions
The poem opens and closes with rhetorical questions, directly engaging the reader and challenging their complacency:
Do you hear the children weeping, O my brothers,
Before sorrow comes with years?
These questions are not meant to be answered literally but to provoke introspection and guilt, forcing the reader to confront their own potential indifference.
Imagery
Vivid and often disturbing imagery is central to the poem’s power. Sensory details paint a clear picture of the children’s suffering:
They look up with pale, sunken faces,
And their looks are sad to see.
Other examples include “coal-dark underground,” “heavy drooping eyelids,” and the “reddest flower would look as pale as snow,” all contributing to the pervasive sense of gloom and physical decay.
Symbolism
Several symbols carry significant meaning throughout the poem:
- Young lambs, birds, fawns, flowers: These symbolize natural innocence, freedom, and the joyous childhood denied to the laborers.
- Iron wheels: Represent industrial oppression, relentless toil, and an unfeeling, inescapable fate.
- Graves: Symbolize not just death, but also peace, rest, and escape from suffering.
Allusion
The epigraph from Euripides’ Medea, “Alas, alas, why do you gaze at me with your eyes, my children,” sets a tragic tone, foreshadowing the unnatural suffering and loss of innocence that follows. Medea’s lament for her children, whom she is about to kill, subtly links the children’s plight to a profound, almost mythical, tragedy.
Repetition
The repetition of phrases like “O my brothers” and “weep” emphasizes the urgency of the narrator’s plea and the pervasive nature of the children’s sorrow. The repeated imagery of “wheels” underscores the relentless, cyclical nature of their labor.
But the young children, O my brothers,
They weep bitterly!
Personification
Abstract concepts and inanimate objects are given human qualities to heighten their impact:
- “sorrow comes with years” suggests sorrow as an active entity.
- “Fate were stark” personifies fate as a harsh, unyielding force.
Metaphor and Simile
Browning uses striking comparisons to convey the children’s reality:
- “her grave is shaped like a snowball in the rime” is a simile that evokes a stark, cold, yet strangely pure image of death.
- “the reddest flower would look as pale as snow” is a powerful simile illustrating how their exhaustion drains all color and joy from their perception.
- “He is speechless as a stone” uses simile to express their profound disillusionment with God.
Tone
The poem’s tone shifts throughout. It begins with an accusatory and sorrowful tone, then transitions to the children’s own voices, which convey deep despair, weariness, and a tragic sense of resignation. The overall tone is one of urgent protest and profound lament.
Poetic Devices in The Cry of The Children: Structure and Form
The poem’s formal elements contribute significantly to its emotional resonance.
Stanzaic Structure
The poem is composed of varying stanza lengths, often employing quatrains (four-line stanzas) with a consistent AABB rhyme scheme. This regular, almost song-like structure creates a mournful rhythm, akin to a lament or a tragic lullaby, which ironically contrasts with the harsh subject matter, making the children’s plight even more poignant.
Rhyme and Rhythm
The consistent rhyme scheme and meter, often anapestic (two unstressed syllables followed by a stressed syllable) or iambic (an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable), create a musicality that draws the reader in. This rhythmic flow, while beautiful, underscores the relentless, repetitive nature of the children’s work and their suffering.
Dialogue
The incorporation of direct dialogue from the children is a crucial poetic device. It gives them agency, transforming them from passive victims into active speakers who articulate their own pain and disillusionment. This direct address makes their suffering immediate and undeniable, forcing the reader to listen to their “cry.”
The Enduring Legacy of “The Cry of The Children”
“The Cry of The Children” remains a powerful and relevant work. Its profound analysis of suffering, its use of compelling imagery, and its direct challenge to societal indifference ensured its significant impact during its time, contributing to the growing movement for social reform and child protection laws. Today, the poem continues to resonate as a timeless testament to the importance of advocating for the rights and well-being of children globally. It serves as a potent reminder that the voices of the vulnerable must be heard and that society bears a collective responsibility to protect its youngest members from exploitation and despair.