Love is life's spring, — the summer of the soul, —
The Eden of earth's happiness, — the spring
Of all on earth that's lovely! — no control
Can hinder its conception: — 'tis the wing
That bears the turtle to its nest in spring; —
It is the mainspring that conducts the whole, —
The eternal anthem which all nature sings,
And woman is of man the life and soul,
As long as earth exists or planets roll! —


Love is an April sky of various shades, —
To day all sunshine, and all showers tomorrow;
Buds early blighted, — blossoms born to fade,
And woman stamp'd with the pale hues of sorrow.
Care keeps her cash book where none like to borrow;
Tears are as lonely as the lonely dove;
Procrastinated falshood is hell's horror, —
Hope is its fire that kindles from above, —
Hate burns hell-deep in chronicles of love! —


Yet such is love, and of the purest water, —
The secret essence of the living clay,
That feeds upon itself, and wrongs no daughter
Of Eve; but glides on in its own pure way,
Living as in its own light: — the diamond's ray
Has no reflection upon meaner things;
Impurity takes all its hues away,
While purity its grand impression brings. —
Love is the jewel in the crown of Kings.
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