THE LACE MUSEUM          Detroit

But here the needle plies its busy task,

The pattern grows, the well-depicted 

flow'r,

Wrought patiently into the snowy lawn,

Unfolds its bosom; buds, and leaves, 

and sprigs,

And curling tendrils, gracefully 

dispos'd,

Follow the nimble finger of the fair;

A wreath that cannot fade, or flow'rs 

that blow

With most success when all besides 

decay.