Woman.

A poem by John Clare

O Woman, lovely Woman, magic flower,
What loves, what pleasures in thy graces meet!
Thou blushing blossom, dropt from Eden's bower;
Thou fair exotic, delicately sweet!--
Thy tender beauty Mercy wrung from heaven,
A drop of honey in a world of woe;
From Wisdom's pitying hand thy sweets were given,
That man a glimpse of happiness might know.
-If destitute of Woman, what were life?
Could wealth and wine thy loveliness bestow,
And give the bliss that centres in a wife,
That makes one loth to leave this heaven below
Pains they might soothe, and cares subdue awhile,
But soon the soul would sigh for 'witching Woman's smile.

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