 | Women must weep |  |
THE UNKNOWN GODDESS.
She is everywhere so soft and sweet,
That the flowers would climb to kiss her feet,
If the flowers were there to tell;
And the breezes passing fond and fleet,
If they gave their freshness to the street,
Would surrender her their spell;
But no blossoms dwell
And no zephyrs meet,
In the lonely dungeon-cell,
On the lonelier ocean swell,
That the Unknown Goddess thus might greet;
For her robes, though smirch'd, of Eden smell.
That the flowers would climb to kiss her feet,
If the flowers were there to tell;
And the breezes passing fond and fleet,
If they gave their freshness to the street,
25
But no blossoms dwell
And no zephyrs meet,
In the lonely dungeon-cell,
On the lonelier ocean swell,
That the Unknown Goddess thus might greet;
For her robes, though smirch'd, of Eden smell.
She hath heavenly hopes if earthly clay,
And divine but human is her way,
For her lips were framed to bless;
And the steps, that often darkly stray,
Have not lost the bright immortal ray,
In the miry moil and press;
On her tatter'd dress,
It would trembling stay,
Through the awful strife and stress,
By the pathway none can guess,
While the Unknown Goddess asks for day,
And the burden just a little less.
And divine but human is her way,
For her lips were framed to bless;
And the steps, that often darkly stray,
Have not lost the bright immortal ray,
In the miry moil and press;
On her tatter'd dress,
It would trembling stay,
Through the awful strife and stress,
By the pathway none can guess,
While the Unknown Goddess asks for day,
And the burden just a little less.
Though the filthy rags about her cling,
And no jewels rare their beauty bring,
And no splendour lights her hair;
Though accursed vice eclipses fling,
And her face be even a hateful thing,
Yet her soul is wondrous fair;
And the glorious air
That the angels sing,
As they tread the starry stair,
When they mortal wrongs repair,
To the Unknown Goddess gives a spring,
And its winter takes from cold despair.
And no jewels rare their beauty bring,
And no splendour lights her hair;
Though accursed vice eclipses fling,
And her face be even a hateful thing,
Yet her soul is wondrous fair;
And the glorious air
That the angels sing,
As they tread the starry stair,
When they mortal wrongs repair,
To the Unknown Goddess gives a spring,
And its winter takes from cold despair.
Though her voice is coarse, her features vile,
With the print of every woe and wile,
And her faded cheek is thin;
While the ears are only tuned to guile,
And the mouth forgets the way to smile,
And her daily bread is sin;
Though unsex'd by gin
And the wearying mile,
When the fingers cannot spin,
And the torments old begin;
Yet a grace shines out if shame defile,
And the Unknown Goddess lurks within.
With the print of every woe and wile,
And her faded cheek is thin;
While the ears are only tuned to guile,
And the mouth forgets the way to smile,
And her daily bread is sin;
26
And the wearying mile,
When the fingers cannot spin,
And the torments old begin;
Yet a grace shines out if shame defile,
And the Unknown Goddess lurks within.
| Women must weep | |