Classic Poem

Once upon a time a husband, weary
Of the selfsame face before him day by day,
Determined to dismiss his goodwife promptly,
And take a new one—to her great dismay!

Without delay the little deal was settled,—
The husband on his purpose being bent,—
The new wife through the front door entered grandly,
The old one from a side-door sadly went.

One day the old wife to her home returning
From gathering wild flowers on the mountain side,
Met with her quondam master in the valley,
And, kneeling, asked him how the new one vied.

‘The new wife’, said the husband very slowly,
‘Has beauty that is equal to your own,
But still her hands are not so deft and useful,
Nor can she compass so much work alone.

‘The new wife's hands are very skilled in weaving
Embroidered satins with her dainty touch;
The old wife's fingers, faster and unwearied,
Of useful fabrics weave five times as much.

‘So when I reckon up the charms and uses
Of goodwives, number One and number Two,
There's little room within my mind for doubting,
I had the better bargain when I'd you.’