Domestic Bliss
Dublin Core
Title
Domestic Bliss
Subject
The camp may have its fame, the court its glare,
The theatre its wit, the board its mirth:
But there's a quiet calm, a heaven where
Bliss flies for shelter - the domestic hearth!
If this be comfortless, if this be drear,
It needs not hope to fins a haunt on earth;
Elsewhere we may be careless gay caress'd,
But here, and only here we can be blest.
O senseless, soulless, worse than both were he
Who slighting all the heart should hoard with pride,
Could waste his nights in loosest revelry,
And leave his bosom's partner to abide
The anguish women feel who love and see
Themselves deserted, and their hopes destroyed;
Some doting one, perhaps, who hides her tears,
And struggles at a smile when he appears!
The theatre its wit, the board its mirth:
But there's a quiet calm, a heaven where
Bliss flies for shelter - the domestic hearth!
If this be comfortless, if this be drear,
It needs not hope to fins a haunt on earth;
Elsewhere we may be careless gay caress'd,
But here, and only here we can be blest.
O senseless, soulless, worse than both were he
Who slighting all the heart should hoard with pride,
Could waste his nights in loosest revelry,
And leave his bosom's partner to abide
The anguish women feel who love and see
Themselves deserted, and their hopes destroyed;
Some doting one, perhaps, who hides her tears,
And struggles at a smile when he appears!
Creator
Unattributed
Source
1:12, p. 48
Date
1827.06.01
Contributor
From Rouge Et Noir, a New Poem
Collection
Citation
Unattributed, “Domestic Bliss,” Periodical Poets, accessed September 19, 2024, https://periodicalpoets.com/items/show/43.
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