Excerpt from Poems Her busy hand, in homely ways, All tireless toils its daily share, Nor waits for either blame or praise, And silent is her daily prayer. No tragic art she knows to prove How d'eep, how pure may be devotion. Unuttered every thought of love, She dares not trust with her emotion A tongue unskilled to show a part Oi that which overflows the heart. When nights and days, when friends seemed fewest, She stood beside a bed of pain Explaining that she was the truest, And in these words did this explain (w ords eloquent as words can be): Here, take and drink this cup of tea. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.