Women must weep By Prof. F. Harald Williams [i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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APPRENTICED TO DEATH. |
 | Women must weep |  |
APPRENTICED TO DEATH.
Sold to the round of the prisoner's tread,
Sold as the living is chain'd to the dead,
Sold every day in the market of man,
Sold unto bondage, and set under ban,
Sold in the darkness away from the sight,
Sold at the noontide as well as the night,
Sold beyond help, without wishes or willings,
Sold for a trumpery handful of shillings.
They are bought, they are sold,
But not valued as gold;
Human chattels are choice, human chattels are cheap;
When but souls will be slain,
Do we ever complain?
We have sown to the wind, and the whirlwind we reap.
Sold as the living is chain'd to the dead,
Sold every day in the market of man,
Sold unto bondage, and set under ban,
Sold in the darkness away from the sight,
Sold at the noontide as well as the night,
Sold beyond help, without wishes or willings,
Sold for a trumpery handful of shillings.
They are bought, they are sold,
But not valued as gold;
Human chattels are choice, human chattels are cheap;
When but souls will be slain,
Do we ever complain?
We have sown to the wind, and the whirlwind we reap.
Sold to the freezing and starving and fog,
Sold for far less than your favourite dog,
Sold to the service that lips cannot name,
Sold to the shadow and torture of shame,
Sold for the crown of a funeral wreath,
Sold into sin, and apprenticed to Death!
How long, O just Heaven, how long
Shall this traffic in ruin and wrong
Go wrecking our flowers with its flood—
This traffic in flesh and in blood?
Sold for far less than your favourite dog,
Sold to the service that lips cannot name,
Sold to the shadow and torture of shame,
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Sold into sin, and apprenticed to Death!
How long, O just Heaven, how long
Shall this traffic in ruin and wrong
Go wrecking our flowers with its flood—
This traffic in flesh and in blood?
Sold in the shambles by those you make poor,
Sold to the sorrow unseen at your door,
Sold by the vice that you pamper and pet,
Sold for the pitfalls your own hands have set,
Sold in their weakness the children you know,
Sold from the depths to yet deeper below,
Sold for the cost of mere luxury's frillings,
Sold for a beggarly handful of shillings!
Sold to the sorrow unseen at your door,
Sold by the vice that you pamper and pet,
Sold for the pitfalls your own hands have set,
Sold in their weakness the children you know,
Sold from the depths to yet deeper below,
Sold for the cost of mere luxury's frillings,
Sold for a beggarly handful of shillings!
They are sold, they are bought;
It is nobody's thought;
Human chattels are cheap, human chattels are choice;
For the slaughter of souls
Not a bell ever tolls,
Not a watchman in warning will lift up his voice.
It is nobody's thought;
Human chattels are cheap, human chattels are choice;
For the slaughter of souls
Not a bell ever tolls,
Not a watchman in warning will lift up his voice.
Sold while you sit in your armchair and sleep,
Sold in their youth while they helplessly weep,
Sold for the blood-money you might have paid,
Sold because ease will not go to their aid,
Sold in their tenderness, blown like a breath,
Sold to the Devil, apprenticed to Death.
Sold in their youth while they helplessly weep,
Sold for the blood-money you might have paid,
Sold because ease will not go to their aid,
Sold in their tenderness, blown like a breath,
Sold to the Devil, apprenticed to Death.
How long, O kind Heaven, shall Gain
Get its winnings from murder and pain,
While our slothfulness, deaf to the knell,
Is accomplice in horrors of hell?
Get its winnings from murder and pain,
While our slothfulness, deaf to the knell,
Is accomplice in horrors of hell?
| Women must weep | |