Whose spirit, in that woman’s humble form,
Doth noiseless yet ’mid human suffering move,
Unchecked by frenzy’s strife, or passion’s storm.
And when her mission to this earth shall end —
When love’s pure essence seeks its native heaven,
Her glory there the angels’ shall transcend,
And loftier place than theirs to her be given.
| [2] | Some of the most ungovernable subjects of insanity have been so changed in a few days, by the soothing kindness of Miss Dix, as to execute various articles of fancy-work, under her teaching, with remarkable neatness and taste. |