The Story
of Saville
But woe to the household drudge who keepeth the fire on the hearth not bright.
What are we in spite of our gifts and graces but merest Circassian slaves
Shallops fragile or stately ships lashed by the wind and the waves,—
And none dare impugn though the ocean be covered with rudder-less spume-sprent wrecks,—
’Tis nature’s immutable law, and endures through the ages while sex is sex.
I grant we might wander in wisdom’s ways and follow the windings thereof,
If we might but free our little white feet from the tangling briony, love,—
’Tis sad when a woman to whom the fates Antony’s powers allot
Will eloquent thrill a multitude, for freedom will plan and will plot,
Then weeps next morning a good two hours for a parting kiss forgot!
Yes, truly,—’tis said there are women who their earthly pilgrimage run
Unloved, unloving as is the Sphinx; speak not of it; me, I am one
