Who Can Find Her?

In winter she wears soft scarves of bright color,
Brews teas rich from afar, burns incense earthen and warm all through summer,
Eyes of honey amber, amethyst blue,
Her lamp's light burns all the night through.

She weaves cloth and creates silver jewels with gentle hands,
Brings to merchants across the grass, hills and sands,
Purples and fuchsias, magenta strands,
And her skillful virtues are voiced throughout the lands.

Dimpled cheek and bright smile,
Free of deceit or the slightest of guile,
She innocently and humbly gives to the poor,
No injustice to others will she ever ignore.

Strong arms from reaping the harvest,
Bringing forth surplus fruits the ripest,
While honeysuckle blooms by her door's entrance,
Her hearth never bare of rich sustenance. 

Who can find her, a woman as such?,
I know no greater virtue or beauty you could touch,
As bright as the flame that burns from her candle,
As every nuance of discord she can simply handle.

Who can find her?,
A virtuous woman, who can find?