From scottbrownonline.com
"Stephen Leacock (1869-1944) wrote a poem that illustrates the depressing implications of Malthus’ theory as they worked their way out in the lives of real people.
MOTHER, Mother, here comes Malthus
,Mother, hold me tight!
Look! It's Mr. Malthus,
Mother!Hide me out of sight.
"This was the cry of little JaneIn bed she moaning lay,
Delirious with Stomach Pain,
That would not go away.
All because her small ExistenceOver-pressed upon Subsistence;
Human Numbers didn't need her;
Human Effort couldn't feed her.
Little Janie didn't knowThe Geometric Ratio.
Poor Wee Janie had never doneCourse Economics No. 1;
Never reached in EducationTheories of Population,
--Theories which tend to show
Just how far our Food will go,
Just how far our Food will go,
Mathematically foundJust enough to go around.
This, my little Jane,
is whyPauper Children have to die.
Pauper Children underfedDie delirious in Bed;
Pauper Children underfedDie delirious in Bed;
Thus at Malthus's CommandMatch Supply with true Demand.
Jane who should have gently diedStarted up and wildly cried,
--"Look, mother, look, he's there again
I see him at the Window Pane,
Father, -- don't let him, -- he's behindThat shadow on the window blind,
"In vain the anxious parents soothe,
What can avail their useless Love?
"Darling, lie down again; don't mind;
Branches are moving in the Wind.
"With panting Breath, with Eyes that stare,
Again she cries, "He's there, he's there!"
The frightened Parents look, aghast,
Is it that something really passed?
What is it that they seem to scan,
Ghost or Abstraction, Dream or Man?
That long drawn Face, the cloven Lip,
The crooked Fingers all a-grip,
The sunken Face, cadaverous,
The dress, Ah, God deliver us!
What awful Sacrilege is that?
The Choker and the Shovel Hat,
The Costume black and sinister,
The dress of God's own minister!
The dress of God's own minister!
What fiend could ever urge a ManTo personate a Clergyman!
The Father strides with angry fist
"Out, out! you damned Economist!"
His wife restrains his threatening Paw,
"William, it's economic Law!"She shrieks,
"Oh William! don't you knowThe Geometric Ratio?
William, God means it for the best
Our Darling's taken! we've transgressed
"And crying, "Two times two makes four,"
She crashes swooning to the Floor.
And when her Senses come again
Janie had passed from mortal Pain
And scowling Malthus had moved onMurm'ring,
And scowling Malthus had moved onMurm'ring,
"That's one more Infant gone,"
To other Windows, one by one;
Later he came and took their Son.
With Jane and John gone, out of seven,
They kept at five and just broke even.
"Mary," the chastened Father said,
"I feel God's wisdom; two are dead
The world has only food for five,
Quintuplets are the thing that thrive."
She sobbed, -- "We'll do it if we can!
But, oh that awful Malthus Man.
----------------------------------------------------
Quoted from Doug's blog
No Children!
By Edgar Guest
No children in the house to play
By Edgar Guest
No children in the house to play
—It must be hard to live that way!
I wonder what the people do
When night comes on and the work is through,
With no glad little folks to shout,
No eager feet to race about,
No youthful tongues to chatter on
About the joy that’s been and gone?
The house might be a castle fine,
But what a lonely place to dine!
No children in the house at all,
No children in the house at all,
No fingermarks upon the wall,
No corner where the toys are piled
Sure indication of a child.
No little lips to breathe the prayer
That God shall keep you in His care,
No glad caress and welcome sweet
When night returns you to your street;
No little lips a kiss to give
Oh, what a lonely way to live!
No children in the house! I fear
No children in the house! I fear
We could not stand it half a year.
What would we talk about at night,
Plan for and work with all our might,
Hold common dreams about and find
True union of heart and mind,
If we two had no greater care
Than what we both should eat and wear?
We never knew love’s brightest flame
Until the day the baby came.
And now we could not get along
And now we could not get along
Without their laughter and their song.
Joy is not bottled on a shelf,
It cannot feed upon itself,
And even love, if it shall wear,
Must find its happiness in care;
Dull we’d become of mind and speech
Had we no little ones to teach.
No children in the house to play!
Oh, we could never live that way!
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