* * * * * I stand by the cradle. I stand in pain and anguish and bitterness, and I think: “When you awake some day, my child, you will find me no more.” Seven-day labor is the burden of the song Despair: DESPAIR Is it not allowed to rest even one day in the week and to be at least one day free from the angry growl of the boss, his gloomy mien, his terrible looks; to forget the shop and the cries of the foreman; to forget slavery, to forget woe? You wish to forget yourself and be rested? Never mind, you will soon go to your rest! Soon the trees and flowers will have withered; the last bird is already ending his song; soon there will be cemeteries all around! Oh, how I should like to smell a flower and feel, before the grass is dead, the breath of zephyr in the green fields! You wish to be in the fields where it is airy and green? Never mind you will be carried there soon enough! The brook is silvery and glistens beautifully; the waves are covered with a heavenly grace. Oh, how good it is to bathe there! How I should enjoy leaping into it! My body is weakened from the dreadful work,—how they both would refresh me! Oh, you wish to make your ablution in the brooks? Be not frightened, you will soon receive your ablution! The sweatshop is dark and smoky and small. How can my white blouse be clean there? In the dirty shop cleanliness is unknown to me. How a pure white shirt adorns a man! How proper for a noble body it is, in order to be free to work humanely and be clean withal! You wish now to dress yourself in white? They will dress you, and dress you quickly enough! The woods are breezy, in the woods it is cool. How good to dream there quietly! The little birds sing pleasantly; but in the shop there is noise, and the air is suffocating! Oh, you wish to be cool? Of what avail is a forest to you? It will not be long before you will be cold. ’Tis good to have a dear companion. In adversity he gives hope, in misery—courage. A dear companion sweetens your being, and he gives you a zest for life. And I am orphaned alone like a stone, there are no companions, I am all by myself—you will soon have companions without end; they swarm already and are waiting for you! The Pale Operator gives a hint of the ravages of tuberculosis in the garment trade: THE PALE OPERATOR I see there a pale operator all absorbed in his work. Ever since I remember him, he has been sewing and using up his strength.