 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
27
BEAUTY OR BEAST?
Clad in the purple and the gold,
Badge of a pampered class,
Proud of a lineage grand and old,
Calm as the glacier and as cold,
Changeless though all things pass;
Bright and bold,
Bought and sold,
Grace like the cheat of a magic glass,
Polished with lies, harder than brass—
Ah, is it Beauty's mould,
Or but the beast below the lass,
Flower of the graveyard grass?
Badge of a pampered class,
Proud of a lineage grand and old,
Calm as the glacier and as cold,
Changeless though all things pass;
Bright and bold,
Bought and sold,
Grace like the cheat of a magic glass,
Polished with lies, harder than brass—
Ah, is it Beauty's mould,
Or but the beast below the lass,
Flower of the graveyard grass?
Only half-clothed in hideous tire,
Filthy with stains, that stick
Closer than wounds of savage ire,
Deep in the heart that would aspire,
Spent as a candle's wick;
Marked by mire,
Scorched from fire
Fierce with affliction's flames, that lick
Costlier walls than wood or brick—
Say in the harlot's hire,
Where is the Beauty warm and quick,
Under the Beast so thick?
Filthy with stains, that stick
Closer than wounds of savage ire,
Deep in the heart that would aspire,
Spent as a candle's wick;
Marked by mire,
Scorched from fire
Fierce with affliction's flames, that lick
Costlier walls than wood or brick—
Say in the harlot's hire,
Where is the Beauty warm and quick,
Under the Beast so thick?
Followed about by flattery's gong,
Shielded from every harm,
Gaily excused for act of wrong,
Done in the right of custom long,
Counted in her a charm;
Soothed with song,
Riding strong
Over the slaves who kiss the arm,
Lifted to strike without a qualm—
Oh, is it Beauty's silken thong,
Or just the Beast, disguised with psalm,
Painted, not to alarm?
Shielded from every harm,
Gaily excused for act of wrong,
Done in the right of custom long,
Counted in her a charm;
Soothed with song,
Riding strong
Over the slaves who kiss the arm,
Lifted to strike without a qualm—
Oh, is it Beauty's silken thong,
Or just the Beast, disguised with psalm,
Painted, not to alarm?
Driven by hate from purer haunt,
Banished where women weep,
Thrust by superior sinning's vaunt,
Brave in its crimes that unknown jaunt,
Down to the leper's deep;
Gray and gaunt,
Pierced with taunt
Framed in the breast where serpents creep,
Yet with a spirit firm to keep
Purpose, which none can daunt—
Is it the Beast, unpowered to steep,
Beauty that stirs, in sleep?
Banished where women weep,
Thrust by superior sinning's vaunt,
Brave in its crimes that unknown jaunt,
Down to the leper's deep;
Gray and gaunt,
Pierced with taunt
Framed in the breast where serpents creep,
Yet with a spirit firm to keep
Purpose, which none can daunt—
Is it the Beast, unpowered to steep,
Beauty that stirs, in sleep?
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |