ODE TO SAPONACEA.
Who claims my strongest missing noun,
When sheets as soft and white as down,
Return in colour yellowy-brown?
My Laundress!
Who by her science can convert
My best and most expensive shirt
Into a miracle of dirt?
My Laundress!
Who, when my collars come back frayed,
Receives my protests undismayed,
And merely wishes to be paid?
My Laundress!
Who spite of warnings that one gives,
Turns cambric kerchiefs into sieves,
Or ragged trellis-work—and lives!
My Laundress!
Who at the wash-tub, truth to tell,
Is partly fraud and partly sell,
Yet does her "mangling" very well?
My Laundress!