And here in the corner, where burns a pale light,
Sits sewing and shivering a woman to-night.
Through many a season, drooped low o’er her knee,
She’s sat there, and often she scarcely could see
What stitches to take, so flickering her lamp!
So weary her eyes! so chilling the damp!
Two little ones sleep at her side on the floor;
At times she looks towards them with heart very sore
At the thought of their cries at the last scanty meal,