Following this pretty parable someone spoke of a newspaper article that had appeared that day, and Patience remarked:
“’Tis a gab o’ fool. Aye, and the gab o’ fool be like unto a spring that be o’erfull o’ drops, ’tis ne’er atelling when it breaketh out its bounds.”
With this sage observation she dismissed the “fool” as unworthy of further consideration, and gave this poem:
Do I to love the morn,
When Earth awakes, and streams
Aglint o’ sun’s first gold,
As siren’s tresses thred them through the fields;
When sky-cup gleameth as a pearl;
When sky-hosts wake, and leaf bowers
Wave aheavied with the dew?