 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
ERIN MAVOURNEEN.
Women, used to women's portion,
Walking in a world of grace,
Meant not for the grim distortion,
Rags and dirt, of beggars' place;
Made not for the iron rounding,
Want, that is an arméd host,
Blasts of rude contention, hounding
Weakness from its troubled post;
Now they clutch, with crampéd fingers
Weary, at the drudge's part,
What must memory be, that lingers
Just to stab the woman's heart?
Walking in a world of grace,
Meant not for the grim distortion,
Rags and dirt, of beggars' place;
Made not for the iron rounding,
Want, that is an arméd host,
Blasts of rude contention, hounding
Weakness from its troubled post;
Now they clutch, with crampéd fingers
Weary, at the drudge's part,
What must memory be, that lingers
Just to stab the woman's heart?
Ladies, with each treasure gifted
Once, and delicately bred
Long, when fortune smiled, and lifted
High the pure patrician head;
Born to bless a lofty station,
Raised in luxury and rank,
Pride and glory of a nation,
Ere they through no error sank;
Now they herd with thieves, and borrow
Paupers' payment for the strife,
What must be their cruel sorrow,
Eating out the sap of life?
Once, and delicately bred
Long, when fortune smiled, and lifted
High the pure patrician head;
Born to bless a lofty station,
Raised in luxury and rank,
Pride and glory of a nation,
Ere they through no error sank;
Now they herd with thieves, and borrow
Paupers' payment for the strife,
What must be their cruel sorrow,
Eating out the sap of life?
What if late their lot was shielded
Tenderly from touch of storm,
High and low with gladness yielded
Homage to the dainty form?
What if yesterday the petting,
Which is still sweet woman's right,
Strewed with flowers their path, besetting
All their duties with delight?
What if hands untrained to toiling,
Hands that no assistance ask,
Grandly take the noble soiling,
Earned by the ignoble task?
Tenderly from touch of storm,
High and low with gladness yielded
Homage to the dainty form?
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Which is still sweet woman's right,
Strewed with flowers their path, besetting
All their duties with delight?
What if hands untrained to toiling,
Hands that no assistance ask,
Grandly take the noble soiling,
Earned by the ignoble task?
Sadly they at service humble
Work, and caged in cellar's gloom
Starve with outcasts, as they stumble
Feebly downward to their doom;
Old and helpless, in the straining
Struggle to which never reared,
Yet they battle uncomplaining,
Nothing but dishonour feared;
Shall we now refuse to cherish
Sisters, who deserve not blame,
Leave them thus to pine and perish,
But a witness to our shame?
Work, and caged in cellar's gloom
Starve with outcasts, as they stumble
Feebly downward to their doom;
Old and helpless, in the straining
Struggle to which never reared,
Yet they battle uncomplaining,
Nothing but dishonour feared;
Shall we now refuse to cherish
Sisters, who deserve not blame,
Leave them thus to pine and perish,
But a witness to our shame?
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |