Lovers' Piety
The sullen, silent hour of pray'r
Sends many a wand'ring sigh to Heav'n,
From breasts that earth-enthralled are,
And aye to mortal angels giv'n.
With transient step, the murmurer roves
From hill to vale, from bell to blossom,
Then turns it to the Heav'n it loves —
A woman's lip! a woman's bosom!
THE ANSWER
Heav'n's flow'rs are red an' rare,
Ev'ry sigh to heav'n-bed roamin'
Cowereth too contently there,
To think on sinfu' breast o' woman.
Woman's smile is chare enough,
And her kiss is not ungratefu',
But to sighs, so far aloof
From sin, must sure be very hatefu'.
Sends many a wand'ring sigh to Heav'n,
From breasts that earth-enthralled are,
And aye to mortal angels giv'n.
With transient step, the murmurer roves
From hill to vale, from bell to blossom,
Then turns it to the Heav'n it loves —
A woman's lip! a woman's bosom!
THE ANSWER
Heav'n's flow'rs are red an' rare,
Ev'ry sigh to heav'n-bed roamin'
Cowereth too contently there,
To think on sinfu' breast o' woman.
Woman's smile is chare enough,
And her kiss is not ungratefu',
But to sighs, so far aloof
From sin, must sure be very hatefu'.
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