 | Women must weep |  |
POOR AND PROUD.
Alone in London, and without a friend,
Upon an earth that seem'd of iron wrought,
Beneath a sky of brass, she nobly fought
Life's bitter battle to the solemn end.
Upon an earth that seem'd of iron wrought,
Beneath a sky of brass, she nobly fought
Life's bitter battle to the solemn end.
Too poor to purchase food, too proud to bend
From the pure purpose of her settled thought
To that curst freedom by dishonour bought,
At the sad price which makes the soul descend.
From the pure purpose of her settled thought
To that curst freedom by dishonour bought,
At the sad price which makes the soul descend.
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She would not soil the sweetness of her name,
Nor traffic with the glory of her charms,
And earn a loathsome living out of shame;
She stretch'd to God her blind and beauteous arms,
And to escape the very breath of harms,
She died—and kept the jewel of good fame.
Nor traffic with the glory of her charms,
And earn a loathsome living out of shame;
She stretch'd to God her blind and beauteous arms,
And to escape the very breath of harms,
She died—and kept the jewel of good fame.
| Women must weep | |