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Pine,
Rose and Fleur de Lis
by
Susie Frances Harrison
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CATHARINE
PLOUFFE
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This
gray-hair’d spinster, Catharine Plouffe—
Observe her, a contrast to convent chits,
At her spinning wheel, in the room in the roof!
Yet there are those who believe that the hoof
Of a horse is nightly heard as she knits—
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gray-hair’d spinster, Catharine Plouffe—
Stockings of fabulous warp and woof,
And that old Benedict’s black pipe she permits
At her spinning wheel, in the room in the roof,
For thirty years. So the gossip. A proof
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Of
her constant heart? Nay. No one twits
This gray-hair’d spinster, Catharine Plouffe;
The neighbours respect her but hold aloof,
Admiring her back as she steadily sits
At her spinning wheel, in her room in the roof.
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Will they ever marry? Just ask her. Pouf!
She would like you to know she’s not lost
her wits—
This gray-hair’d spinster, Catherine Plouffe,
At her spinning wheel in the room in the roof!
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