When no other cause did stay her;
  And her Mary living nearer,
  Margaret began to fear her,
  Lest her visits day by day
  Martha’s heart should steal away. 
  That whole heart she ill could spare her,
  Where till now she’d been a sharer. 
  From this cause with grief she pined,
  Till at length her health declined. 
  All her cheerful spirits flew,
  Fast as Martha’s gather’d new;
  And her sickness waxed sore,
  Just when Martha felt no more.

  Mary, who had quick suspicion
  Of her alter’d friend’s condition,
  Seeing Martha’s convalescence
  Less demanded now her presence,
  With a goodness, built on reason,
  Changed her measures with the season;
  Turn’d her steps from Martha’s door,
  Went where she was wanted more;
  All her care and thoughts were set
  Now to tend on Margaret. 
  Mary living ’twixt the two,
  From her home could oft’ner go,
  Either of her friends to see,
  Than they could together be.

    Truth explain’d is to suspicion
  Evermore the best physician. 
  Soon her visits had the effect;
  All that Margaret did suspect,
  From her fancy vanish’d clean;
  She was soon what she had been,
  And the color she did lack
  To her faded cheek came back. 
  Wounds which love had made her feel,
  Love alone had power to heal.

    Martha, who the frequent visit
  Now had lost, and sore did miss it,
  With impatience waxed cross,
  Counted Margaret’s gain her loss: 
  All that Mary did confer
  On her friend, thought due to her. 
  In her girlish bosom rise
  Little foolish jealousies,
  Which into such rancor wrought,
  She one day for Margaret sought;
  Finding her by chance alone,
  She began, with reasons shown,
  To insinuate a fear
  Whether Mary was sincere;
  Wish’d that Margaret would take heed
  Whence her actions did proceed. 
  For herself, she’d long been minded
  Not with outsides to be blinded;
  All that pity and compassion,
  She believed was affectation;
  In her heart she doubted whether
  Mary cared a pin for either. 
  She could keep whole weeks at distance,
  And not know of their existence,
  While all things remain’d the same;
  But, when some misfortune came,
  Then she made a great parade
  Of her sympathy and aid,—­
  Not that she did really grieve,
  It was only make-believe,
  And she cared for nothing, so
  She might her fine feelings show,
  And get credit, on her part,
  For a soft and tender heart.

    With such speeches, smoothly made,
  She found methods to persuade
  Margaret (who being sore
  From the doubts she’d felt before,
  Was prepared for mistrust)
  To believe her reasons just;
  Quite destroy’d that comfort glad,
  Which in Mary late she had;
  Made her, in experience’ spite,
  Think her friend a hypocrite,
  And resolve, with cruel scoff,
  To renounce and cast her off.