"Oh, woman, woman! thou art formed to bless
The heart of restless man; to chase his care,
And charm existence by thy loveliness;
Bright as the sunbeam, as the morning fair,
If but thy foot fall on a wilderness,
Flowers spring, and shed their roseate blossoms there,
Shrouding the thorns that in thy pathway rise,
And scattering o'er it hues of paradise.
"Thy voice of love is music to the ear,
Soothing, and soft, and gentle as the stream