 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
JUST A WOMAN.
Just a woman grimly slain,
Just a sister hacked and rent
By the knives, that left the murder stain,
And the wounds unclosing lips in vain
To the Heaven above them bent,
That no guardian angel sent;
With the hands that would some pity gain,
And uplifted staunch the warm red rain,
By the heart's deep fountain spent;
Till the spirit God had lent,
Like a ransomed prisoner burst the chain,
And to God its Maker went.
Just a sister hacked and rent
By the knives, that left the murder stain,
And the wounds unclosing lips in vain
To the Heaven above them bent,
That no guardian angel sent;
With the hands that would some pity gain,
And uplifted staunch the warm red rain,
By the heart's deep fountain spent;
Till the spirit God had lent,
Like a ransomed prisoner burst the chain,
And to God its Maker went.
Just a woman stabbed and torn,
Just a sister gashed and gray
By the cruel lust, that in its scorn
On the body, once by angel worn,
Had its cursed will, and lay
Black on glory turned to clay;
Ah, the breast for love's caresses born,
And to beat in light of sunny morn,
Was cut short at opening day,
In its innocence of play,
Like a palace faded and forlorn;
And the world went on its way.
Just a sister gashed and gray
By the cruel lust, that in its scorn
On the body, once by angel worn,
Had its cursed will, and lay
Black on glory turned to clay;
Ah, the breast for love's caresses born,
And to beat in light of sunny morn,
Was cut short at opening day,
In its innocence of play,
Like a palace faded and forlorn;
And the world went on its way.
Just a woman, outraged, killed,
Just a sister brought to shame,
Who had dainty posts of duty filled,
And in martyr's grand devotion willed
To have lifted up the lame,
Out of dungeon or the flame;
Who in tasks of tender pity skilled,
Had to every touch of sorrow thrilled,
And in all her glowing frame,
For the right and rescue came—
But is now for ever stayed and stilled,
Though in mocking mien the same.
Just a sister brought to shame,
Who had dainty posts of duty filled,
And in martyr's grand devotion willed
To have lifted up the lame,
Out of dungeon or the flame;
Who in tasks of tender pity skilled,
Had to every touch of sorrow thrilled,
115
For the right and rescue came—
But is now for ever stayed and stilled,
Though in mocking mien the same.
Just a woman, fair of plan,
Just a sister peace had shod,
Who went down in race she sweetly ran,
As a soul foredoomed by some dread ban,
That makes even the bravest nod,
With its iron judgment rod;
Who had lived and loved a tiny span,
And the scarréd world begun to scan,
Where the sufferers blindly plod,
To the grave beneath the clod;
Till she passed from cruelty called man,
To the mercy that is God.
Just a sister peace had shod,
Who went down in race she sweetly ran,
As a soul foredoomed by some dread ban,
That makes even the bravest nod,
With its iron judgment rod;
Who had lived and loved a tiny span,
And the scarréd world begun to scan,
Where the sufferers blindly plod,
To the grave beneath the clod;
Till she passed from cruelty called man,
To the mercy that is God.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |