To find a friend, and one was quickly found:
A pensive Widow, whose mild air and dress
Pleased the sad nymph, who wish’d her soul’s distress
To one so seeming kind, confiding, to confess.
“What Lady that?” the anxious lass inquired,
Who then beheld the one she most admired:
“Here,” said the Brother, “are no ladies seen -
That is a widow dwelling on the Green;
A dainty dame, who can but barely live
On her poor pittance, yet contrives to give;