woman's love.
Fill up the measure of a heart,
Where love plays but inferior part;
A pretty pastime, meant to chase
The slow dull hours of life's sad pace.
Or, like a sunbeam glancing o'er
A waste, all dark and drear before—
One momentary gleam of light,
And all again is dark as night;
And then the heart once more is given
To all that calls the soul from heaven:
Riches and power usurp the place
Of nature's beauty, love and grace.
Oh, fell ambition! whose vast power
Is felt in life, through every hour,
Welling affections to decay,
Wearing each better grace away;
Consuming hopes and blest emotions,
Crushing the soul's own best devotions;
Would that thy tyrant days were run,
And love's soft reign on earth begun:
When each, preferring other's weal,
And feeling more, where others feel,—
Where love plays but inferior part;
A pretty pastime, meant to chase
The slow dull hours of life's sad pace.
Or, like a sunbeam glancing o'er
A waste, all dark and drear before—
One momentary gleam of light,
And all again is dark as night;
And then the heart once more is given
To all that calls the soul from heaven:
Riches and power usurp the place
Of nature's beauty, love and grace.
Oh, fell ambition! whose vast power
Is felt in life, through every hour,
Welling affections to decay,
Wearing each better grace away;
Consuming hopes and blest emotions,
Crushing the soul's own best devotions;
Would that thy tyrant days were run,
And love's soft reign on earth begun:
When each, preferring other's weal,
And feeling more, where others feel,—
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