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O the voice of woman’s love!

  What a bosom-stirring word!

Was a sweeter ever uttered,

  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,

  Who hath never shared a part

    Of woman’s love.

’Tis pleasure to the mourner,

  ’Tis freedom to the thrall;

The pilgrimage of many,

  And 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 a woman’s love--

    A woman’s love?