The constant struggle of her watchful life,
To curb her will, and bend her energies,
And train her nature for her destiny;
And conscious that she hath a marshalled host,
Obedient to the mandates of her soul,
She wears a placid brow, and dreads no foe.
A thoughtless word upon affection's tongue,
A look of coldness from a cherished friend,
A hardened thought, that wrongs her of her due,
And makes her seem what she would scorn to be,