Classic Poem

O Woman lovely woman how beguiling
Is thy sweet voice of music & thy smiles
Thy cheeks all roses & thy lips all smileing
& where's the treachery that thy heart beguiles
For thy sweet self man labours sweats & toils
Mines the whole earth & raviges the deep
For thee the summer in its glory smiles
Yet " Man was made to mourn" & women weep
& briars & thorns as harvests both must reap.