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 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
791
DONNA JUAN.
Old fogeys give me a bad name,
I really scarce know why,
And if my talk you ever blame,
You cannot call it dry;
Nor would I lightly care to vex
Good people, and be bold,
But then the freedom of my sex
Is what I must uphold;
The rights of woman, who has long
The burden borne too well,
And the deep burning sense of wrong,
Constrain me to rebel.
I really scarce know why,
And if my talk you ever blame,
You cannot call it dry;
Nor would I lightly care to vex
Good people, and be bold,
But then the freedom of my sex
Is what I must uphold;
The rights of woman, who has long
The burden borne too well,
And the deep burning sense of wrong,
Constrain me to rebel.
And so I mix on equal terms,
With pilgrims of the Park,
And study passion's hidden germs,—
If sometimes in the dark;
Of course, my uncurbed fancy takes
No orthodoxy's flight,
I liberally deal with “rakes,”
And call a “spade” aright;
Appearances I do not dread,
Nor words of solemn sound,
Archbishops could not make me tread
The stale old stupid round.
With pilgrims of the Park,
And study passion's hidden germs,—
If sometimes in the dark;
Of course, my uncurbed fancy takes
No orthodoxy's flight,
I liberally deal with “rakes,”
And call a “spade” aright;
Appearances I do not dread,
Nor words of solemn sound,
Archbishops could not make me tread
The stale old stupid round.
Let critics rather call me fast,
Than dowdy, dull, or slow,
For I have broken with the Past,
And its pale proper show;
Dead Institutions are my pet
Aversions, and the sham
Of fossil forms I don't forget,
And delicately damn;
I've left poor Custom and that fudge,
To babies led by string,
And forward hasten, and why grudge
Me just an honest fling?
Than dowdy, dull, or slow,
For I have broken with the Past,
And its pale proper show;
Dead Institutions are my pet
Aversions, and the sham
Of fossil forms I don't forget,
And delicately damn;
I've left poor Custom and that fudge,
To babies led by string,
And forward hasten, and why grudge
Me just an honest fling?
Men have their innings had, and now
We turn another page,
And Donna Juan makes her bow,
And steps upon the stage;
We cannot do much worse than males,
Who keep us under ban,
And, lo, the Tripos tells us tales,
Of what sweet woman can;
And here, though every prude should pout,
I'll snap Decorum's chain,
And smoke and drink and flirt about,
Nor be a slave again.
We turn another page,
And Donna Juan makes her bow,
And steps upon the stage;
We cannot do much worse than males,
Who keep us under ban,
And, lo, the Tripos tells us tales,
Of what sweet woman can;
And here, though every prude should pout,
I'll snap Decorum's chain,
And smoke and drink and flirt about,
Nor be a slave again.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |