Freston
15
There I ensconsed myself and read my book,—
'Twas on the Social Question—till the sound
Of voices broke the hush that brooded o'er
The quiet spot. I laid my book aside
And listened, without shame, to all they said.
My cousin's voice first reached me, the rich tone
Holding a something almost petulant.
'Twas on the Social Question—till the sound
Of voices broke the hush that brooded o'er
The quiet spot. I laid my book aside
And listened, without shame, to all they said.
My cousin's voice first reached me, the rich tone
Holding a something almost petulant.
"What can a woman do?" "Why sympathize,"
My Helen answered with a tender smile,
"Cheer on the lagging spirit up life's road,
And light the pathway by ambition trod!
Pluck from life's roses all the cruel thorns"—
"And have them pierce and make her own hand bleed!"—
My Helen answered with a tender smile,
"Cheer on the lagging spirit up life's road,
And light the pathway by ambition trod!
Pluck from life's roses all the cruel thorns"—
"And have them pierce and make her own hand bleed!"—
The restless voice of proud Elizabeth
Broke in upon the other's calmer tone.
"E'en so," she answered, "but the wounds will heal
While smoothing pillows for an aching head,
Or soothing chafed and weary hearts to rest.
Her lot in life is to be sentinel,—
To weep, to watch, to pray"—
Broke in upon the other's calmer tone.
"E'en so," she answered, "but the wounds will heal
While smoothing pillows for an aching head,
Or soothing chafed and weary hearts to rest.
Her lot in life is to be sentinel,—
To weep, to watch, to pray"—
"I grant all that!
All that is well and truly woman's work,
All that is well and truly woman's work,
