Hate shuts her soul when dove-eyed mercy pleads.

Hate shuts her soul when dove-eyed mercy pleads

Through life's dark road his sordid way he wends, An incarnation of fat dividends.

Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doctor's spite; Thy clouds all other clouds dispel, And lap me in delight.

Trade hardly deems the busy day begun, Till his keen eye along the sheet has run; The blooming daughter throws her needle by, And reads her schoolmate's marriage with a sigh; While the grave mother puts her glasses on, And gives a tear to some old crony gone.

Through life's dark road his sordid way he wends; an incarnation of fat dividends.