People gazed in admiration—always listened—when she talked
Always made you think of roses, but she limped whene’er she walked.
Nothing crippled, nothing shriveled, nothing of the withered sort;
Just a perfect human being, save one leg a trifle short;
As though nature had intended her the rarest of her kind
But fell short of precious matter and no substitute could find.
Fair as polished alabaster that had wakened from its dream;
But so modest and retiring she held every one’s esteem.
Though her imperfection grieved her more than anybody knew,
Yet her life was like the heavens when the stars are peeping through.