Ah! never little Quakeress a guiltier conscience bore!
Dear Aunt Faith walked looking upward; all her thoughts were pure and holy;
And Aunt Peace walked gazing downward, with a humble mind and lowly.
But “tuck—tuck!” chirped the sparrows, at the little maiden’s side;
And, in passing Farmer Watson’s, where the barn-door opened wide,
Every sound that issued from it, every grunt and every cluck,
Was to her affrighted fancy like “a tuck!” “a tuck!” “a tuck!”
In meeting, Goodman Elder spoke of pride and vanity,
While all the Friends seemed looking round that dreadful tuck to see.
How it swelled in its proportions, till it seemed to fill the air,