Classic Poem

Domestic love sits brooding o'er th' hearth,
Like the fair cushat o'er the forest-boughs;
And happiness unto thy home is bound
Close as the fragrance to the summer rose:
For woman's angel purity is there,
And woman's hand so soft and face so fair,
And woman's heart of love, and voice of song
Soft as the linnet's hedgerow leaves among.
This heart so glad with thee in moments past,
Can wish for thee no better than thou hast:
But in this silent hour, when earth is gray,
To Him who gave it all, this heart can pray: —
" Where joy is now , oh! send no future pain —
May what is happy — happy aye remain! "