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Edgar Guest - A Woman’s Love
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There are times a woman`s love 
Fer a man stands out, I guess, 
More ‘n usual, like as when 
Sickness comes or else distress; 
But I reckon that it shines
Brighter than a taller dip 
When a man is goin` away
An` she comes t` pack his grip.

`Pears t` me she seems t` think
More about his comforts then; 
Puts in slippers, jes` as though
They were worn by traveling men; 
Fusses round an` round th` room,
Hopin`, maybe, that she`ll see 
Somethin` that perhaps he`ll need —
Jes` as thoughtful as can be.

Packs in heavy underwear,
Fearin` that it may get cold; 
It is most remarkable
What a common grip will hold 
When a woman fills it up —
Things fer sunshine an` fer rain, 
Pills fer every kind of ills,
Liniment fer every pain.

Seen her pack that grip o` mine
Hundred times, I guess, an` more; 
Heard her sigh while doin` it,
Kneelin` on th` bedroom floor; 
An` I never went away
On the shortest kind o` trip 
Without feelin` that her heart
Had been packed inside my grip.
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