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He will bask in her charms, from the light of her eye 
Catch fancies and feelings he ne’er knew before; 
He will mix in her pleasures, as each hurries by, 
And chase the light ills it is her’s to endure ; 
But, alas! the 1 one fibre ’ he cannot attain, 
Denies him the power to join in her pain. 
And too oft to caprice he attributes a tone, 
Or a look, or a sigh, which she cannot control; 
And the woe preordained she should suffer alone, 
Is barbed by his sneer as it enters her soul; 
Then touched are the waters and dark is the fate, 
Which is destined, alas ! on her future to wait! 
Ye proud sons of reason ! oh, pause on your way, 
And reflect, e’er too late, on the pain ye may give ;* 
’ T is woman's to suffer , — be it your’s to allay 
By forbearance each grief she is doomed to re¬ 
ceive, — 
Hold sacred the weakness with loveliness born, 
Nor forget the rose owns both fragrance and thorn. 
