"
Her face is turned to his with eager gaze
She drinks in all his words with ecstasy.
"Oh, Adrian, far dearer than the praise
Of all the world those words come now to me;
Yet tell me, Adrian, is woman's life
Naught but a shadowy dream--a pain--a strife?"
A grave, sweet smile stole o'er his face, his eyes
Met hers with earnest look, yet half surprise:
"God knows the longings of each human heart,
And each assigns some noble, worthy part,
And they who seek will find; the battle's won
When thought is true, and duty is well done.
From world to world the deeds of man may fly,
Yet in each heart a woman's grace may lie.
Few men may comprehend her longing need--
She lives in thought, he lives in strife and deed.
His boasted deeds may live but for a day
Her purity and truth will live for aye.
The man who claims a woman's hand and heart,
Knows not what boon he craves, what precious thing;
She gives her all--he only gives a part--
She gives her freedom up and crowns him king.
'Tis true she murmurs not,--when love is there
No duty is too great, she feels no care;
'Tis only when that love is cold and dead
She feels the galling chains--the hand of lead.
And therefore do I say to you, Arline,
Of love, and not of fame, she should be queen.
'Tis love that wakes a man to woman's grace;
He first finds heaven when looking in her face,
He sees the trusting soul, the wealth untold
Of noble thoughts that God has written there.
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