Page:Not understood - and other poems (IA notunderstoodoth00braciala).pdf/56

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’Tis woman’s right to lead us from
  The foot of Mammon’s throne,
And take us to a nobler shrine
  Where purer joys are known.

’Tis woman’s sacred right—and this
 To her by God is given—
To teach the lisping little ones
  The password into Heaven.
No joy man knows on earth can with
  A mother’s bliss compare
When, listening with the angel choir,
  She hears her child’s first prayer.

’Tis woman’s right to lean on man
  In sorrow and distress,
For he was made to comfort her,
  And she was made to bless;
Her bulwark against danger, be
  She daughter, sister, wife,
Or mother, he should guard her well—
  Aye, even with his life.

’Tis woman’s right, ere we prepare
  To battle in life’s van,
To shape our future destinies
  And mould the mind of man;
And here, where we’re erecting on
  Pacific’s breast a State
The mothers of our rising race
  Can make it poor or great.