AFFECTION.
Affection, to the human heart,
Is what the dew is to the flower;
It strengthens still the weaker part,
And gives to all a truer power.
If, lost amid the wildering light
That lures astray, our hearts may roam—
That star, amidst the cheerless night,
Leads us to happiness and home.
Is what the dew is to the flower;
It strengthens still the weaker part,
And gives to all a truer power.
If, lost amid the wildering light
That lures astray, our hearts may roam—
That star, amidst the cheerless night,
Leads us to happiness and home.
It is a pearl no wealth can buy,
But that which from true honor flows;
Its home is in the deep dark eye,—
Its strength within the bosom glows.
Not all the power that splendor brings,
Can tempt its peaceful light aside;
'Neath softer skies it folds its wings—
With life itself it is allied.
But that which from true honor flows;
Its home is in the deep dark eye,—
Its strength within the bosom glows.
Not all the power that splendor brings,
Can tempt its peaceful light aside;
'Neath softer skies it folds its wings—
With life itself it is allied.
His life has many happy hours,
Who, wandering in a foreign land,
Can gather fancy's choicest flowers
And bid them blossom in his hand;
Who, wandering in a foreign land,
Can gather fancy's choicest flowers
And bid them blossom in his hand;
