  Margaret Lee—you do not know her? Rightly named—a pearl is she; Half a score of years I've loved her— Precious Margaret Lee. "Dimples?" No; nor "golden tresses," Nor yet "voice of silvery tone";— If such phrases must express her, Soft brown hair and grey eyes dreaming Visions that none others see; Plain her features; you might call her Homely Margaret Lee. Margaret owns no stately mansion, Carries not a heavy purse; Heiress to no "lordly acres," Humble station hers. Quietly she treads life's highway; Quiet, yet with noble mien; 'Mid the lowly, 'mid the lofty Journeying like a queen. Some have called her cold and haughty, From her bearing, high and free; Some have said a lofty spirit Dwells with Margaret Lee. Why then do the "heavy-laden" Hail with joy her coming nigh? Why the childern love her shadow As she passeth by? Some have deemed her weak, erratic. Some, too self-reliant, strong; One avers, her mood too gloomy; One, too light her song. All may be; the clouds of error Ofttimes overshade her way, Hiding where the rough and changeful Paths of duty lay. But unseen by mortal vision Humbly bows a contrite spirit— Praying Margaret Lee— Asking of the All-forgiving Pardon for her erring life; Seeking wisdom, faith and patience For its coming strife. So with footstep sometimes faltering, But with steadfast hope in God, Keeps she still a blithesome journey O'er the earthly road. And at last all loss and failure Lost in mercy, it may be Heaven's gate of pearl will open For sweet Margaret Lee. There redeemed from sin and sorrow, There from care and conflict free; She will walk the angel city, Angel Margaret Lee. |
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