A Woman's Love

A woman’s love runs deeper

Than the springs of sorrow

That crisscross life;

A woman’s love is purer

Than the first snow that swathes

The mountain tops.

A woman’s love flows free

As the doves that wing

The cerulean dome;

A woman’s love is gentle

As the happy breath

Of a sleeping babe.

Mysterious as the mist

That swirls in a vale astray;

A woman’s love is wild,

Like a forest fire

On a summer’s day.

A woman’s love, honestly returned,

Swells like the tide

On a full moon night,

And engulfs her lover

In perennial spate.

A woman’s love, if basely spurned,

Kindles fury- that shakes the hills,

Stills the roaring seas;

And spawns hurt that smoulders

In her grave.