 | John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion |  |
301
SONG
[O the voice of womans love]
O the voice of womans love
What a bosom stirring word
Was a sweeter ever uttered
Was a dearer ever heard
Than womans love
What a bosom stirring word
Was a sweeter ever uttered
Was a dearer ever heard
Than womans love
How it melts upon the ear
How it nourishes the heart
Cold ah cold must his appear
Who hath never shared a part
Of womans love
How it nourishes the heart
Cold ah cold must his appear
Who hath never shared a part
Of womans love
Tis pleasure to the mourner
Tis freedom to the thrall
The pilgrimage of many
& the resting place of all
Is womans love
Tis freedom to the thrall
The pilgrimage of many
& the resting place of all
Is womans love
Tis the gem of beautys birth
It competes with joys above
What were angels upon earth
If without a womans love
A womans love
It competes with joys above
What were angels upon earth
If without a womans love
A womans love
| John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion | |