Make ends meet

waxes bold, And though not fairer to behold, With brazen front insults the

day: The more abhorrent to the sight, The more she courts the day's pure

The time already I discern, When thee all honest folk will spurn, And shun thy

hated form to meet, As when a corpse infects the street. Thy heart will sink in

blank despair, When they shall look thee in the face! A golden chain no more

thou'lt wear! Nor near the altar take in church thy place! In fair lace collar

simply dight Thou'lt dance no more with spirits light! In darksome corners

thou wilt bide, Where beggars vile and cripples hide, And e'en though God