 | Love-Songs |  |
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III. THE CRUCIFIXION OF WOMANHOOD.
And what of woman? Shall she not arise
Splendid as risen Christ on Easter morn,—
Seeking, dew-kissed, sun-crowned, a flower new-born,
Untraversed haunts of unfamiliar skies?
Shall not the sweet God shine within her eyes?
Shall not her swordless white hand laugh to scorn
The pale black-armoured foes who would have torn
Her banner down, that floated lily-wise?
Splendid as risen Christ on Easter morn,—
Seeking, dew-kissed, sun-crowned, a flower new-born,
Untraversed haunts of unfamiliar skies?
Shall not the sweet God shine within her eyes?
Shall not her swordless white hand laugh to scorn
The pale black-armoured foes who would have torn
Her banner down, that floated lily-wise?
Oh, Christ is risen; leave his grave in peace.
Rise thou, O woman, from thine own poor dreams;
Lo! even for thee an Easter morning gleams
Triumphant, and thine utter woes shall cease
Mayhap: no more shall flow the sacred blood
Of crucified, sad, tortured womanhood.
Rise thou, O woman, from thine own poor dreams;
Lo! even for thee an Easter morning gleams
Triumphant, and thine utter woes shall cease
Mayhap: no more shall flow the sacred blood
Of crucified, sad, tortured womanhood.
(Written on Easter Eve, March 27, 1880.)
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