 | Women must weep |  |
“WET DAMNATION.”
Dying, yet they live, and drag
Writhing bodies to the brink
Of the hell, from which they shrink;
Even as Judas loathed the bag,
That yet held with iron link;
Sick, with feet that sorely flag,
Childhood withered as the hag—
Bloodshot eyes that blink,
Slouching forms that slink—
Still they stumble in the accusing rag,
Borne as wrecks that break upon a crag,
To the damning Drink.
Writhing bodies to the brink
Of the hell, from which they shrink;
Even as Judas loathed the bag,
That yet held with iron link;
Sick, with feet that sorely flag,
Childhood withered as the hag—
Bloodshot eyes that blink,
Slouching forms that slink—
Still they stumble in the accusing rag,
Borne as wrecks that break upon a crag,
To the damning Drink.
106
Though the bondage deeper binds,
Though the solace is but brief,
More withdrawing as a thief
Than it gives, and only blinds
Fools a moment in their grief;
Yet the sullied spirit finds,
Toss'd about by waves and winds,
Chosen as the chief
Help in lost belief,
Here a haven from the brutal minds,
Here a refuge from the wrath that grinds—
In a false relief.
Though the solace is but brief,
More withdrawing as a thief
Than it gives, and only blinds
Fools a moment in their grief;
Yet the sullied spirit finds,
Toss'd about by waves and winds,
Chosen as the chief
Help in lost belief,
Here a haven from the brutal minds,
Here a refuge from the wrath that grinds—
In a false relief.
Just a little drop at first,
Just enough to ease the pain,
And the galling of the chain
Which the victim cannot burst;
Just a glass, which offers gain,
When the evil wreaks its worst,
And the guilty nature durst
Not behold the stain,
And the striving vain;
Till the passion more and more athirst,
Stamps on features more and more accurst,
Branding as of Cain.
Just enough to ease the pain,
And the galling of the chain
Which the victim cannot burst;
Just a glass, which offers gain,
When the evil wreaks its worst,
And the guilty nature durst
Not behold the stain,
And the striving vain;
Till the passion more and more athirst,
Stamps on features more and more accurst,
Branding as of Cain.
Ah, no glimmer comes of hope,
Still afraid to pause and think,
Still obliged as slaves to wink
At the crime, with which they cope—
Who, in maiden white and pink,
Once played on the grassy slope—
Now through grimy courts they grope;
And how angels sink,
Write in bloody ink—
How they daily darken, moil and mope,
Till their necks are in the hangman's rope
All from damnèd Drink.
Still afraid to pause and think,
Still obliged as slaves to wink
At the crime, with which they cope—
Who, in maiden white and pink,
Once played on the grassy slope—
Now through grimy courts they grope;
And how angels sink,
Write in bloody ink—
How they daily darken, moil and mope,
Till their necks are in the hangman's rope
All from damnèd Drink.
| Women must weep | |