44
A VOICE OF THE HEART.
But no daring hand was lifted,
Clearing a path for woman's right,
Through the gloomy depths of ages,
She has struggled in the night.
Clearing a path for woman's right,
Through the gloomy depths of ages,
She has struggled in the night.
Oh! the heart-woes that lie hidden,
Deep, so deep, that none can see,
Oh! the graves that hold unnumbered,
Wrongs, in direst secrecy.
Oh! that many a costly stone,
Had written on its snowy face,
"Murder, murder, trust in manhood,
Brought her to this sad disgrace."
Deep, so deep, that none can see,
Oh! the graves that hold unnumbered,
Wrongs, in direst secrecy.
Oh! that many a costly stone,
Had written on its snowy face,
"Murder, murder, trust in manhood,
Brought her to this sad disgrace."
Not by cord or sharpened steel,
Do the fair young lives fade out,
But the heart's most careful winning,
And its careless wearing, torture
More than brand, or lash, or knout.
Woman, woman, who hast suffered,
Wrongs and sins like unto thee,
Woman, woman, thou hast borne them,
With a martyr's purity.
Do the fair young lives fade out,
But the heart's most careful winning,
And its careless wearing, torture
More than brand, or lash, or knout.
Woman, woman, who hast suffered,
Wrongs and sins like unto thee,
Woman, woman, thou hast borne them,
With a martyr's purity.
Pulpit, press, and they in honor,
Held by social law's grim might,
They have scorned thy pleading voices;
They have spurned thy prayer for right
Queen art thou of hearth and home,
Oh! woman, but from thy high throne,
By the hand of faithless judgment,
Hast thou from thy place been torn.
Held by social law's grim might,
They have scorned thy pleading voices;
They have spurned thy prayer for right
Queen art thou of hearth and home,
Oh! woman, but from thy high throne,
By the hand of faithless judgment,
Hast thou from thy place been torn.
