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Poem by Dinah Maria Craik Her Likeness A GIRL, who has so many wilful ways She would have caused Job's patience to forsake him; Yet is so rich in all that's girlhood's praise, Did Job himself upon her goodness gaze, A little better she would surely make him. Yet is this girl I sing in naught uncommon, And very far from angel yet, I trow. Her faults, her sweetnesses, are purely human; Yet she's more lovable as simple woman Than any one diviner that I know. Therefore I wish that she may safely keep This womanhede, and change not, only grow; From maid to matron, youth to age, may creep, And in perennial blessedness, still reap On every hand of that which she doth sow. Dinah Maria Craik Dinah Maria Craik's other poems: 1253 Views |
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