She has a “faculty” prompt and certain,
Which makes each flower-bed, gown, and curtain
A standing wonder to her neighbors.
Her days seem measured by some planet
More liberal than our common sun is;
For she finds time when others miss it
The poor to cheer, the sick to visit,
And carry brightness in where none is.
Behold her as, her day’s work over,
Her house from attic to door-scraper