She came among the gathering crowd,
⁠A maiden fair, without pretence,
And when they asked her humble name,
⁠She whispered mildly, "Common Sense."

Her modest garb drew every eye,
⁠Her ample cloak, her shoes of leather,—
And when they sneered, she simply said,
⁠"I dress according to the weather."

They argued long, and reasoned loud,
⁠In dubious Hindoo phrase mysterious,
While she, poor child, could not divine
⁠Why girls so young should be so serious.

​They knew the length of Plato's beard,
⁠And how the scholars wrote in Saturn;
She studied authors not so deep,
⁠And took the Bible for her pattern.

And so she said, "Excuse me, friends,
⁠I find all have their proper places,
And Common Sense should stay at home
⁠With cheerful hearts and smiling faces."