Her all collected,—whether great or small
The sum, I know not, but collected all— 520
The widow’d lady to her cot retired,
And there she lives delighted and admired.
Civil to all, compliant and polite, }
Disposed to think, “whatever is, is right,” }
She wears the widow’s weeds, she gives the widow’s mite. }
At home awhile, she in the autumn finds
The sea an object for reflecting minds,
And change for tender spirits; there she reads,