Anna was always full of thought
As if she'd many sorrows known,
Yet mostly her full heart was fraught
With troubles that were not her own;
For the whole school to Anna used to tell
Whatever small misfortunes unto them befell.
And being so by all beloved,
That all into her bosom poured
Their dearest secrets, she was moved
To pity all--her heart a hoard,
Or storehouse, by this means became for all
The sorrows can to girls of tender age befall.
Though individually not much
Distress throughout the school prevailed,
Yet as she shared it all, 'twas such
A weight of woe that her assailed,
She lost her colour, loathed her food, and grew
So dull, that all their confidence from her withdrew.
Releasëd from her daily care,
No longer listening to complaint,
She seems to breathe a different air,
And health once more her cheek does paint.
Still Anna loves her friends, but will not hear
Again their list of grievances which cost so dear.
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