296
A SHEAF GLEANED
Oh, the good Sister! Oh, the sweet patience she shows
Weariness or anger, never, never she knows!
A hundred times over she repeats the same thing,
And her brow remains cloudless, her voice keeps its ring;
Nor cares she to note on the benches first ranged,
Where the youngest have seats, stealthy glances exchanged;
For there marches on paper spread out and on book
A may-bug made captive, that attracts every look!
