My first may be fashioned of iron or wood,
And at window or door for safety is placed;
In village or town it does more harm than good,
Leading people their health, time, and money to waste.
My second’s a lady, bewitching and fair,
And for love of her people will labor and strive;
Will rise before dawn, and be wearied with care,
And pursue her with ardor as long as they live.
My whole is what ladies admire and approve,
The shopkeeper’s boast—the purchaser’s prize;
’Tis a ninepenny chintz—’tis a one-shilling glove—
It is something which makes people open their eyes.
What am I?