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Poems by James Hyslop

... With a Sketch of his Life, and Notes on his Poems, By the Rev. Peter Mearns

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 LXXI. 
LXXI. Woman's Love.
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LXXI.
Woman's Love.

There's more in woman's love than arms,
Soft breast, and lips, and ringlets bright:
There's more in beauty than the charms
She yields thee in the shades of night:
There is a rapture, a delight
Dearer than poet's song can tell,—
A pleasure nothing can excite
But Beauty who has lov'd thee well.
I have been told that woman's love
Was light as airy thistle-down;
I've found her fonder than the dove,
Softer than summer flowers new-blown,
Dearer than aught I've ever known.
My heart has melted oft away
Beneath its influence when alone;
My arms around her soft neck lay.

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I have not found her love a flower
That blooms one little day and dies;
But like the glad refreshing shower
Scatter'd from April's sunny skies.
Like rain and flowers and zephyr's sighs
Her love unto my heart has been;
It made poetic blooms arise,
And aye has kept them fresh and green.
Tho' gladness sparkles in thine eye,
And beauty on thy cheek is bright,
And youthful spirits, dancing high,
Make life and love to thee delight,
Are there not oft hours when, in spite
Of all that youth and love bestow,
A dismal, dark, and cloudy night
O'ershadows all that's bright below;
And there is nought can break the gloom
But light that shines beyond the tomb?
In those dark, melancholy hours,
Where has thy spirit found repose?
Hast thou not sought the silent bowers
Where wild flowers grow, and water flows
Thy soft heart's sorrows to disclose
To Him who has thy sins forgiven,
And find relief from all thy woes
By humble faith and trust in Heaven?
Such pleasures often have been mine,
I know I have a heart like thine.
The soft frail bloom of earthly love
Is but the blossom of a day;
But, planted in the bowers above,
'Twill never, never fade away.
How sweet the thought that, though decay
And death our fondest love must sever,
An angel youth that aye will stay—
Again we'll meet to love for ever!