CXXXVII.

A storm it raged, and like the storm it passed, Passed without words--in fact she could not speak; And then her sex's shame[311] broke in at last, A sentiment till then in her but weak, But now it flowed in natural and fast, As water through an unexpected leak; For she felt humbled--and humiliation Is sometimes good for people in her station.

CXXXVIII.

It teaches them that they are flesh and blood, It also gently hints to them that others, Although of clay, are yet not quite of mud; That urns and pipkins are but fragile brothers, And works of the same pottery, bad or good, Though not all born of the same sires and mothers; It teaches--Heaven knows only what it teaches, But sometimes it may mend, and often reaches.