K. F.

by Anne Whitney

You are welcome, world, to censure and carp:
Sing and croak yourselves hoarse if you will;
'Tis pleasant to find 'mid blame and praise,
One who is sweet and stable still.

What! you don't see that it's all in vain?
That Madame will neither be you nor I:
But simply herself; God bless her for that!
And grant us to prize her accordingly!