Edward Coote Pinkney on Women

“Affections are as thoughts to her, the measure of her hours; Her feelings have the fragrancy, the freshness, of young flowers; And lonely passions, changing oft, so fill her, she appears The image of themselves by turns,—the idol of past years!”

“I fill this cup to one made up    Of loveliness alone, A woman, of her gentle sex    The seeming paragon; To whom the better elements    And kindly stars have given A form so fair, that, like the air,    'Tis less of earth than heaven.”