LUNATICS, PAUPERS, AND WOMEN!
Mary S. Doten
December 5, 1890
say to whom of all the earth,
To day of death from day of birth,
You turn for love that's true, man!
To whom look you for tender care?
Who's ever quick your lives to share?
But some fond, loving woman?
childhood's happy hours you prize
A glance from mothers loving eyes,
Far more than from another,
And older grown, you'll seldom find
A better friend than sister kind,
That fondly loves her brother.
minds your house, who mends your clothes?
And keeps you fairly human?
And who with careful thought eer hides
Your petty faults, from all besides,
But same true, patient woman?
you, Creation's Lords, so grand,
On lofty height, self-placed, you stand
And take all as your due, man!
And never think that credits due
To one that's proved companion, true,
This constant, helpful woman.
not your equal, so you say,
Down on your knees, proud man, and pray
Forgiveness from each woman.
If not your equal whos to blame?
Who makes the laws that are a shame,
And that you yet shall rue man?
hide your face, in secret blush,
Nor eer again soft nonsense gush
Of revrence felt for woman.
Just let me show you where you've placed
The mother, sister, wife, who've graced
Your life, and made it true, man.
must not vote, the cares of state
On her fair brow must bear no weight,
She could not understand them!
And so - with idiots, paupers, cranks,
Proud man, you claim that woman ranks!
In such low state you band them.
man! there comes a day of fate
When you shall find, I fear too late,
That poor, down-trodden woman
Has burst the bonds that hold her fast;
That triumph comes to her at last,
And as shes only human
giddy height shell pull you down,
Nor let you longer wear the crown;
She'll serve you to your due, man,
And you in turn will find your rank
With idiots, pauper, silly crank,
Far, far below good woman!