Oh! what is the gain of restless care, And what is ambitious treasure? And what are the joys that the modish share, In their sickly haunts of pleasure? My husband`s repast with delight I spread, What though `tis but rustic fare, May each guardian angel protect his shed, May contentment and quiet be there. And may I support my husband`s years, May I soothe his dying pain, And then may I dry my fast falling tears, And meet him in Heaven again. JULY, 1810.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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