Love is homeless in a palace and in company is lone;
She's a vagabond in riches, and a vassal on a throne,
In the gilded halls of fortune, on the airy heights of fame,
If she's unresuscitated by the husbandman or dame.
Love's at home within the hovel, on the curb or in the den,
With the highest or the lowest, in the varied walks of men,
When they feel the animation of her bouyancy and zeal,
Welling big with exultation in the glory of their weal.
Love is all there is of heaven. It's the Eden gained by those
Who, pursuing art and fortune, loved humanity and rose
By the aid they've given others; through this jewel of the soul
Leading many wayward brothers to the mead of honor's goal.
Love's a pleasure to the farmer, and his beaming, lucky star,
When at eve he comes returning from his work in fields afar;
When his spouse awaits his coming with the grace-enthroned brow,
Paying homage to his courage, giving honor to his plough.
Never knight was half so gallant, never man was half so brave
When he greets her in the gloaming as his wife and not his slave,
When he gives his steed the bridle, when he flings aside the flail,
To assist her in the milking and to bear for her the pail.
Love is outraged in the pulpit when the lord presiding there
Overlooks the man in homespun for the opulent and fair;
For the dazzle of the jewels and the jingle of the coin,
Which the nabob, suave and guileful, from the common herd purloin.
Love's a burden to a princess and a trifle to a throne;
For the glory of a monarch is a heart of brass and stone;
Else diplomacy would famish and intrigue and guile would wane,
In the arms of ease and pleasure, find the certain way to shame.
Love's a weakness to a soldier, and this fickle slave of fame
Better serves ambition's mandate when the carnage is his aim;
But to sailors love's a beacon, beaming bright across the seas,
To the glory of the passage, to The Haven of the Lees.