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WomanWritten for amusement and handed to the Spectator only by especial request.
No light that shines in yonder skyCan cheer the soul like woman's eye;No depth of seas, no shifting sandsContain in them such wealth for man.
Nor earth can with her mines impartNo purer gold than woman's heart;The orphan boy by her is fed,She lingers round the dying bed.
And man while sinking to the tomb,She cheers him on through death's dark gloom;By her unfeigned and gentle love,She makes the dying pillow smooth.
And with her hands and tender care,She forms the shroud for him to wear;And with her sweet consoling voiceShe makes the sorrowing heart rejoice.
