Here you will find the Poem A Pin of poet Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Oh, I know a certain lady who is reckoned with the good, Yet she fills me with more terror than a raging lion would. The little chills run up and down my spine whene?er we meet, Though she seems a gentle creature, and she?s very trim and neat. And she has a thousand virtues and not one acknowledged sin, But she is the sort of person you could liken to a pin. And she pricks you and she sticks you in a way that can?t be said. If you seek for what has hurt you ? why, you cannot find the head. But she fills you with discomfort and exasperating pain. If anybody asks you why, you really can?t explain! A pin is such a tiny thing, of that there is no doubt, Yet when it?s sticking in your flesh you?re wretched till it?s out. She?s wonderfully observing ? when she meets a pretty girl, She is always sure to tell her if her hair is out of curl; And she is so sympathetic to her friend who?s much admires, She is often heard remarking, `Dear, you look so worn and tired.? And she is an honest critic, for on yesterday she eyed The new dress I was airing with a woman?s natural pride, And she said, `Oh, how becoming! ? and then gently added, `it Is really a misfortune that the basque is such a fit.? Then she said, `If you heard me yester eve, I?m sure, my friend, You would say I was a champion who knows how to defend.? And she left me with the feeling ? most unpleasant, I aver ? That the whole world would despise me is it hadn?t been for her. Whenever I encounter her, in such a nameless way She gives me the impression I am at my worst that day. And the hat that was imported (and cost me half a sonnet) , With just one glance from her round eyes becomes a Bowery bonnet. She is always bright and smiling, sharp and pointed for a thrust; Use does not seem to blunt her point, nor does she gather rust. Oh! I wish some hapless specimen of mankind would begin To tidy up the world for me, by picking up this pin!