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?