Gone is her beauty. The 1ocks of gold,
Faded and lusterless, thinly fold
Over a forehead all seamed with care;
Her face, once rounded; and smooth, and fair,
Is pinched and hollow, and worn and thin,
And the dimples are gone from cheek and chin.
What has she learned, these dark years through?
Bearing a load that was meant for two.
Has her mind grown broad and her vision wide?
Is the woman wiser than Was the bride?
This she has learned, and but little more,
Save household tasks wrought o'er and o'er:
She has learned that girlhood's hopes are dust;
She has learned the taste of poverty's crust.
The years go on, and there comes a day
When the struggling student is crown'd with bay;
When gracious Fortune__so niggard before__
Lauds him with honors, and gold in store.
On far-blowing winds, over Ocean's tide,
The name of a genius is wafted wide.
It is his; and the heart of the wife beats fast
With pride and joy__"He has won at last!"
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