It is dreary with no one to love us,
Or to hold back the hand that abuses:
Man's hand, that first led and caressed us,
Man's lips, that first kissed and betrayed;—
If his God could know how he's oppressed us,
Do you think that we need be afraid?
For we loved him—and he who stood nearest
To God, who could doubt or disdain?
When he swore by that God, and the dearest
Of boons that he hoped to obtain
Of that God, that he truly would keep us
In his heart of hearts precious and only:
Say, how could we think he would steep us
In sorrow, and leave us thus lonely?
But you see how it is: he has left us,
This demi-god, heir of creation;
Of our only good gifts has bereft us,
And mocked at our mad desolation:
Says that we knew that such oaths would be broken—
Says we lured him to lie and betray;
Quotes the word of his God as a token
Of the law that makes woman his prey.
And now what shall we do? We have given
To this master our handmaiden's dower:
Our beauty and youth, aye, and even
Our souls have we left in his power.
Though we thought when we loved him, that loving
Made of woman an angel, not demon;
We have found, to our fond faith's disproving,
That love makes of woman a leman!
Yes, we gave, and he took: took not merely
What we gave, for his lying pretences:
