As she reads all his letters over, writ from the war.
What’s in all this grand life and high situation,
And nary pink nor hollyhawk bloomin’ at the door—
Let’s go a-visitin’ back to Griggsby’s Station—
Back where we used to be so happy and so pore!
—J. W. Riley.
The Old Spinster.
No, she never was married, but was to have been—
At the time she was running the loom—
But the fact’ry burned down, some were mangled and scarred,