February | 2025 | my word in your ear

After the previous post on marriage by Sylvia Plath the Thomas Hardy poem ‘The Ruined Maid‘ comes to mind. It is an early poem by Hardy written over hundred years before Plath. It clearly defines the plight of being a young girl in the eighteen-sixties. A sarcastic take on the joy of being ruined. And how to be one-up on a friend who has remained unruined.

Below is the text from the Thomas Hardy Society Website which enhances the Dorset dialect –
Microsoft Word – 5 The Ruined Maid.docx

The voices of the two maids are contrasted. The last line of each stanza are the polished arrogance of the newly refined maid; now a lady going about town in style. The last line by the ruined maid is very interesting those last two words a’int ruined. If she was truly refined in speech she won’t use the word a’int, so she is communicating back to her friend in the local vernacular. So she is not completely ruined perhaps as she reverts to her old self.

The Ruined Maid

‘O ’Melia, my dear, this does everything crown!
Who could have supposed I should meet you in Town?
And whence such fair garments, such prosper-ity?’ –
‘O didn’t you know I’d been ruined?’ said she. –

‘You left us in tatters, without shoes or socks,
Tired of digging potatoes, and spudding up docks;
And now you’ve gay bracelets and bright feathers three!’ –
‘Yes: that’s how we dress when we’re ruined,’ said she. –

‘At home in the barton you said “thee” and “thou”,
And “thik oon”, and “theäs oon”, and “t’other”; but now
Your talking quite fits ’ee for high compa-ny!’ –
‘Some polish is gained with one’s ruin,’ said she.

ruined – morally ruined, a prostitute or a kept woman
barton – farmyard
this one, that one, the other –

‘Your hands were like paws then, your face blue and bleak
But now I’m bewitched by your delicate cheek,
And your little gloves fit as on any la-dy!’ –
‘We never do work when we’re ruined,’ said she. –

‘You used to call home-life a hag-ridden dream,
And you’d sigh, and you’d sock; but at present you seem
To know not of megrims or melancho-ly!’ –
‘True. One’s pretty lively when ruined,’ said she. –

‘I wish I had feathers, a fine sweeping gown,
And a delicate face, and could strut about Town!’ –
‘My dear – a raw country girl, such as you be,
Cannot quite expect that. You ain’t ruined,’ said she.

Westbourne Park Villas, 1866

digging up docks (weeds) with a narrow spade called a spud
hag-ridden – a nightmare
sock – to sigh loudly (Dor dialect)
raw – inexperienced, naive

Thomas Hardy (1840 – 1928)

The Applicant

First, are you our sort of a person?
Do you wear
A glass eye, false teeth or a crutch,
A brace or a hook,
Rubber breasts or a rubber crotch,

Stitches to show something's missing? No, no? Then
How can we give you a thing?
Stop crying.
Open your hand.
Empty? Empty. Here is a hand

To fill it and willing
To bring teacups and roll away headaches
And do whatever you tell it.
Will you marry it?
It is guaranteed

To thumb shut your eyes at the end
And dissolve of sorrow.
We make new stock from the salt.
I notice you are stark naked.
How about this suit----

Black and stiff, but not a bad fit.
Will you marry it?
It is waterproof, shatterproof, proof
Against fire and bombs through the roof.
Believe me, they'll bury you in it.

Now your head, excuse me, is empty.
I have the ticket for that.
Come here, sweetie, out of the closet.
Well, what do you think of that ?
Naked as paper to start

But in twenty-five years she'll be silver,
In fifty, gold.
A living doll, everywhere you look.
It can sew, it can cook,
It can talk, talk , talk.

It works, there is nothing wrong with it.
You have a hole, it's a poultice.
You have an eye, it's an image.
My boy, it's your last resort.
Will you marry it, marry it, marry it.

Sylvia Plath (1932 - 1963)

my word in your ear

words for dissemination … poetry commentary and selected poems … Richard Scutter

Month: February 2025

The Ruined Maid – Thomas Hardy – accepting subservience

The Applicant – Sylvia Plath – On marriage