Woman

We're but the Shadows of these Women Suns,

We creep behind, and still they lead the way;

We're but the Tides, and women are our Moons,

We come and go, and quietly obey.

We worship them to-day and call them saints,

We follow them from love, and praise their beauty;

To-morrow comes and, following them from fear,

We limp behind to do a husband's duty.

They lead the way, and men must follow still,

We're but their slaves, be it from love or fear;

And when they fail to coax or scold with words,

We'll find our certain Master in a Tear.