"Hogs in the garden,—

Catch 'em, Towser!

Cows in the cornfield,—

Run, boys, run!

Fire on the mountains,—

Run, boys, run boys!

Cats in the cream-pot,—

Run, girls, run!"

Idon't stand up for Woman's Right

Not I,—no, no!

The real lionesses fight,—

I let it go.

Yet, somehow, as I catch the call

Of the world's voice,

That speaks a summons unto all

Its girls and boys;

In such strange contrast still it rings

As church-bells' bome

To the pert sound of tinkling things

One hears at home;

And wakes an impulse, not germane

Perhaps, to woman,

Yet with a thrill that makes it plain

'T is truly human;—

A sudden tingle at the springs

Of noble feeling,

The spirit-power for valiant things

Clearly revealing.

But Eden's curse doth daily deal

Its certain dole,—

And the old grasp upon the heel

Holds back the soul!

So, when some rousing deed's to do,

To save a nation,

Or, on the mountains, to subdue

A conflagration,

Woman! the work is not for you;

Mind your vocation!

Out from the cream-pot comes a mew

Of tribulation!

Meekly the world's great exploits leave

Unto your betters;

So bear the punishment of Eve,

Spirit in fetters!

Only, the hidden fires will glow,

And, now and then,

A beacon blazeth out below

That startles men!

Some Joan, through battle-field to stake,

Danger embracing;

Some Florence, for sweet mercy's sake

Pestilence facing;

Whose holy valor vindicates

The royal birth

That, for its crowning, only waits

The end of earth;

And, haply, when we all stand freed,

In strength immortal,

Such virgin-lamps the host shall lead

Through heaven's portal!