No Bread No Work, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Why am I underneath this vicious curse,
Must I forever take Thy name in vain.
Can my poor wretched life get any worse,
While the world is bright out my window pane.
A simple man I can’t be any more,
Yet with these hands I am eager to toil,
Til all muscles in my body be sore,
And the sweat of my brow be mixed with soil.
No qualms, do with me whatever You may,
Spare my wife and child the chill of the ground.
Speak to me, I will do just as You say,
From this day I shall be forever bound.
No bread, no work, in His hands life does rest,
Will do my best, hope with His love be blessed.
No matter the label you put on Ernesto del la Carcova, Realist or Romaticist, his painting Pas de Pain, Pas de Travail (c 1893), is clear in the story it tells. He has worked the light so that it is cast upon the woman feeding her child. Carcova is worried about the future for many of his country’s people. Some are doing very well while others suffer.