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[68] |
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O the voice of woman’s love!– What a bosom-stirring word! Was a sweeter ever utter’d, Was a dearer ever heard, Than woman’s love? |
| How it melts upon the ear! How it nourishes the heart! Cold, ah! Cold must his appear That has never shared a part Of woman’s love. |
| ‘Tis pleasure to the mourner, ‘Tis freedom to the thrall: The pilgrimage of many, And the resting-place of all, Is woman’s love. |
| ‘Tis the gem of beauty’s
birth; It competes with joys above: What were angels upon earth, If without woman’s love– Sweet woman’s love? |