The Knickerbocker/Volume 13/Number 5/Woman's Love
WOMAN'S LOVE.
A woman's love, deep in the heart,
Is like the violet flower,
That lifts its modest head apart,
In some sequestered bower;
And blest is he who finds that bloom,
Who sips its gentle sweets;
He heeds not life’s oppressive gloom,
Nor all the care he meets.
A woman's love is like the spring,
Amid the wild alone;
A burning wild, o'er which the wing
Of cloud is seldom thrown;
And blest is he who meets that fount,
Beneath the sultry day;
How gladly should his spirits mount,
How pleasant be his way!
A woman's love is like the rock,
That every tempest braves,
And stands secure amid the shock
Of ocean's wildest waves;
And blest is he to whom repose
Within its shade is given;
The world, with all its cares and woes,
Seems less like earth than heaven.
Is like the violet flower,
That lifts its modest head apart,
In some sequestered bower;
And blest is he who finds that bloom,
Who sips its gentle sweets;
He heeds not life’s oppressive gloom,
Nor all the care he meets.
A woman's love is like the spring,
Amid the wild alone;
A burning wild, o'er which the wing
Of cloud is seldom thrown;
And blest is he who meets that fount,
Beneath the sultry day;
How gladly should his spirits mount,
How pleasant be his way!
A woman's love is like the rock,
That every tempest braves,
And stands secure amid the shock
Of ocean's wildest waves;
And blest is he to whom repose
Within its shade is given;
The world, with all its cares and woes,
Seems less like earth than heaven.