I know a little maiden
In a most tremendous bonnet,
All manufactured out of black,
With nodding poppies on it.
Her shoes are two old rubbers,
Full of many a hole and leak,
And--bless you--these are only worn
On one day of the week.
But her laugh is molten silver,
And her hair is burnished gold,
And the treasures in her jewelled eyes
Are riches manifold.
And no one on the broad round earth
Is happier than she,
Although this little maiden
Is as poor as she can be.