Women must weep By Prof. F. Harald Williams [i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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THE VIRGIN INNOCENTS. |
 | Women must weep |  |
133
THE VIRGIN INNOCENTS.
They sigh from London gaunt and grim,
Where prospers all but right,
Where sunshine often is more dim
And dreadful than the night;
Their eyes with tears not guilty swim,
Like blossoms set in waters' brim,
Just hidden from the sight,
Which struggle for the light;
Though careless hands their gardens trim,
And purge of poison-blight,
Or play with any idle whim,
While sisters helpless fight.
With footsteps trembling, tired, and weak,
They climb those stern ascents;
They are, if they could only speak,
The Virgin Innocents.
Where prospers all but right,
Where sunshine often is more dim
And dreadful than the night;
Their eyes with tears not guilty swim,
Like blossoms set in waters' brim,
Just hidden from the sight,
Which struggle for the light;
Though careless hands their gardens trim,
And purge of poison-blight,
Or play with any idle whim,
While sisters helpless fight.
With footsteps trembling, tired, and weak,
They climb those stern ascents;
They are, if they could only speak,
The Virgin Innocents.
They sigh from every dismal den,
In every toiling town,
With human shapes that are not men,
And fiends in woman's gown;
From murder's haunt and fever's pen,
Where food for one is given to ten,
And wretches bare and brown
Must famish'd be or drown;
Where childhood is not childhood, when
No mother up or down
Has taught one infant aught to ken,
But blow or fiercer frown.
Each day they spurn the damning spot,
Which ill each day invents;
They are, what fairer forms are not—
The Virgin Innocents.
In every toiling town,
With human shapes that are not men,
And fiends in woman's gown;
From murder's haunt and fever's pen,
Where food for one is given to ten,
And wretches bare and brown
Must famish'd be or drown;
Where childhood is not childhood, when
No mother up or down
Has taught one infant aught to ken,
But blow or fiercer frown.
Each day they spurn the damning spot,
Which ill each day invents;
They are, what fairer forms are not—
The Virgin Innocents.
They sigh from reeking crowded room,
From noisy staring street,
Where the low taper sheds but gloom,
And want and plenty meet;
These keep their souls' bright maiden bloom,
These have not yielded to the doom,
Disguised by offering sweet,
Which stumbles frailer feet;
And through our feasts as spectres loom,
Figures we dare not greet,
Asking if but a beggar's broom,
To earn a winding-sheet.
They toil, and they have troubled much,
Nor one to sin consents;
They are, and we should honour such,
The Virgin Innocents.
From noisy staring street,
Where the low taper sheds but gloom,
And want and plenty meet;
These keep their souls' bright maiden bloom,
These have not yielded to the doom,
134
Which stumbles frailer feet;
And through our feasts as spectres loom,
Figures we dare not greet,
Asking if but a beggar's broom,
To earn a winding-sheet.
They toil, and they have troubled much,
Nor one to sin consents;
They are, and we should honour such,
The Virgin Innocents.
They sigh from homes that shelter not,
From beds that never rest,
Where very weeds arise to rot,
And sparrows build no nest;
And still they stand the furnace hot,
Though hell and all its demons plot,
As demons know the best,
To trap some trustful guest;
They herd with harden'd thief and sot,
Untainted by the pest,
While tighten we the hangman's knot,
And call our country blest.
They see no drop of heavenly dew,
Nor summer's kind intents;
They are, if we our sisters knew,
The Virgin Innocents.
From beds that never rest,
Where very weeds arise to rot,
And sparrows build no nest;
And still they stand the furnace hot,
Though hell and all its demons plot,
As demons know the best,
To trap some trustful guest;
They herd with harden'd thief and sot,
Untainted by the pest,
While tighten we the hangman's knot,
And call our country blest.
They see no drop of heavenly dew,
Nor summer's kind intents;
They are, if we our sisters knew,
The Virgin Innocents.
| Women must weep | |