Page:Poems and lyrics of the joy of earth.djvu/127

Rh But, to see the poor darling go limping for miles
 * To read books to sick people!—and just of an age

When girls learn the meaning of ribands and smiles!
 * Makes me feel like a squirrel that turns in a cage.

The more I push thinking the more I revolve:
 * I never get farther:—and as to her face,

It starts up when near on my puzzle I solve,
 * And says, 'This crush'd body seems such a sad case.'

Not that she's for complaining: she reads to earn pence;
 * And from those who can't pay, simple thanks are enough.

Does she leave lamentation for chaps without sense?
 * Howsoever, she's made up of wonderful stuff.

Ay, the soul in her body must be a stout cord:
 * She sings little hymns at the close of the day,

Though she has but three fingers to lift to the Lord,
 * And only one leg to kneel down with to pray.