woMANss LOVE.
{"character_count": 1168, "word_count": 216, "ccnet_language_score": [0.9715999960899353], "ccnet_perplexity": [951.7000122070312], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
 When man IS waxing frail,

 And his hand is thin snd weak, And his lips are parchedi and pale, And wan and white his cheek; Oh ! then doth woman prove Her constaney and love She sitteth by his chair

 And holds hls feeble hand; She wateheth ever there,

 His wants to understand; His yet unspoken will She hastenelh to fulfil. She leads him, when the noon

 Is bright o'er the dale or hill, And ali things, save the tune

 Of the honey bees, are still, Into the garden bowers, To sit midst herbs and flowers. And when he goes not there,

 To feast on breath and bloom, She brings the posey rare

 Into his darkened room; And meath his weary head The pillow smooth doth spread. Until the hoa, when death

 His lamp of life doth dim, She never wearieth,

 She never leayeth him; Still near him night and day, She meets his eye alway. And when his triai's o CT,

 And tho turf is on his breast, Deep in her bosom's core;

 Lie sorrows unexpressed; Her tears, her sighs, are weak, Her settled grief to speak. And though there may arise

 Balm for her spirits pain, And though her quiet eyes

 May sometimes smile again Still, still, she must regret, She never can forget.