18
Poems
"A noble thing indeed is liberty,
And yet," my Helen answered, laughing low,
"Oft held in check by feeble woman's hands.
When Shakespeare leaned against his casement pane
And listened to the voices of the stars
And heard the strong pulse-beats of Nature's heart,
Or grieved with Juliet in her dreary tomb,
Has not Miranda's fairy isle or Juliet's woe
And yet," my Helen answered, laughing low,
"Oft held in check by feeble woman's hands.
When Shakespeare leaned against his casement pane
And listened to the voices of the stars
And heard the strong pulse-beats of Nature's heart,
Or grieved with Juliet in her dreary tomb,
Has not Miranda's fairy isle or Juliet's woe
Fled from the harsh voice of Anne Hathaway,
As she commanded her infatuate spouse
To 'close the casement' gainst the chill night air
And cut the kindling for to-morrow's fire?'
Whenever some great deed of some great man
Strikes at the world and makes it pulses thrill,
A woman's hand has guided on the blow,—
Is it not woman who plants in the boy's
Young, fertile heart the seed of noble thought?
And from the noble thought spring noble deeds!
As she commanded her infatuate spouse
To 'close the casement' gainst the chill night air
And cut the kindling for to-morrow's fire?'
Whenever some great deed of some great man
Strikes at the world and makes it pulses thrill,
A woman's hand has guided on the blow,—
Is it not woman who plants in the boy's
Young, fertile heart the seed of noble thought?
And from the noble thought spring noble deeds!
Ah, love, you wear your royal robes too light,
That glorious womanhood hath clothed you in,
If you can fail to see how great you are!
What matter though our tasks be little ones?
What matter that we miss the world's applause?
The fruit is good and by it God will judge,
That glorious womanhood hath clothed you in,
If you can fail to see how great you are!
What matter though our tasks be little ones?
What matter that we miss the world's applause?
The fruit is good and by it God will judge,
