Oh, lrat ufe is weary, weary, Dim with discontont and dreary ■ Working-women iind existeuce Full of trouble, fiill of pain. Little joy their lite bestoweth, Little consolation knoweth, JIopeless seems the endless struggle To the girl tliat'i poor and plain. Men have living aims to strive for, Somethiiif; greut- or small to live for, With ambition spurring otfort, Love, or wealth, or power to gain. But for us, no hope attendiug, What the comfort, what the euding, What reward beyoiul mere living, For the girl that'a poor and plani. Hmd and Lm must falter never, Swiftly guide the shuttle ever, Though the lingering houra grow longer, With a dull despair inane. Wheu at last the daylight .endeth, And release froin toiling sendeth, What of recompense or resting For the girl that's poor and plam ? What dabght her toil retrieving, What cf svmpathy relieving Nerveless 'frame and languid footsteps, Starving haart and aohing brain F Lovintí nustmml ? Fond caressing f Baby fingers softly pressing 'f- None of these to ligtleu labor For the girl that's poor and plain. Ah, the worth of pleasing feature To the louely, loveless creature ; Hopelssa elsë of earthly blessings, Nathlesa full of earthly pain. But it lasteth not forever ' Hasten, silver cord, to sever ! Welcome, Death ! the gracious bridegroom Of the girl that's poor and plain.