A Woman's Reason

Why should I stake my happy youth, My days of sprint, Upon a m.in's tmtested truth, And proffered ring? Vou praisc me for my golden h:nr, My eyes of blue, But change o'ertakes the faireit luir, Then what of you? Whcn all you pralsc has suíTcred wrong, And I um oíd, Will lovc tliat did to vouth belong My age unfold? Since you but prire ray smíling eyes And blusliing cheuk, Then breaüic no more your tender sijhs ; The things you scek Are but a shadow of a shade, Will vinish fast, Mirage of mists of inorning made, That caunot last. 'Tis he who secks a woman's soul Who wins her heart; One reaches not love's tin.il goal With shailow art.