GIVE me women, wine, and snuff
Untill I cry out "hold, enough!"
You may do so sans objection
Till the day of resurrection:
You call yourself a man,
For all you used to swear,
An' leave me, as you can,
My certain shame to bear?
(from a song)
Perhaps I was born kneeling,
born coughing on the long winter,
The laughter of women sets fire
to the Halls of Injustice
and the false evidence burns
to a beautiful white lightness
You cannot rob us of the rights we cherish,
Nor turn our thoughts away
From the bright picture of a "Woman's Mission"
Our hearts portray.
young women, old women
in their heart
despite the years
the yearning to be beautiful
I dream of a red-rose tree.
And which of its roses three
Is the dearest rose to me?
When God sat down to make a woman
He gave her empathy love and compassion,
By the time he finished with her
He had no more left for the man.
NOTHING so true as what you once let fall,
"Most Women have no Characters at all."
Matter too soft a lasting mark to bear,
And best distinguish'd by black, brown, or fair.