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STANZAS. 



The human heart was never framed 



In solitude to dwell. 

 Though monks have sought the cloister shade. 



And hermits sought the cell. 



Alone, a thousand feelings bum 



Within its narrow bound. 

 And throb with agonising pain. 



More keenly than a wound. 



In kind companionship, they flow 

 As some bright mountain spring. 



And scatter round exulting joy. 

 And rich refreshments bring. 



But nought can deeper pleasure yield — 



All earth's delights above — 

 Than kindred hearts together link'd 



By pure exalted love. 



How sweet to share each lively joy. 



Fresh as it springs to birth ; 

 And sweet to mingle sorrow, too. 



For sorrow dwells on earth ! 



Man in his wretchedness and care 



Would lean on woman's breast ; 

 And woman, in her feebleness. 



Upon his strength would rest ; 



And with united aid, amid 



The pangs to mortals given. 

 Upheld by faith and hope and peare. 



Walk hand in hand to heaven. 



