Save that she lived to feel, in life's decay,
The pleasure die, the honours drop away.
A matron she, whom every village-wife
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View'd as the help and guardian of her life;
Fathers and sons, indebted to her aid,
Respect to her and her profession paid;
Who in the house of plenty largely fed,
Yet took her station at the pauper's bed;
Nor from that duty could be bribed again,