Than man hath known before!
MOTHER TO CHILD.
How best can I serve thee, my child! My child!
Flesh of my flesh and dear heart of my heart!
Once thou wast within me — I held thee — I fed thee —
By the force of my loving and longing I led thee —
Now we are apart!
I may blind thee with kisses and crush with embracing,
Thy warm mouth in my neck and our arms interlacing;
But here in my body my soul lives alone,
And thou answerest me from a house of thine own,
That house which I builded!
Which we builded together, thy father and I;
In which thou must live, O my darling, and die!
Not one stone can I alter, one atom relay,
Not to save or defend thee or help thee to stay —
That gift is completed!
How best can I serve thee? O child, if they knew
How my heart aches with loving! How deep and how true,
How brave and enduring, how patient, how strong,
How longing for good and how fearful of wrong,
Is the love of thy mother!
Could I crown thee with riches! Surround, overflow thee
With fame and with power till the whole world
should know thee;
With wisdom and genius to hold the world still,
To bring laughter and tears, joy and pain, at thy will,
Still — thou mightst not be happy!
Such have lived — and in sorrow. The greater the mind,
The wider and deeper the grief it can find.
The richer, the gladder, the more thou canst feel
The keen stings that a lifetime is sure to reveal.
O my child! Must thou suffer?
Is there no way my life can save thine from a pain?
Is the love of a mother no possible gain?
No labor of Hercules — search for the Grail —
No way for this wonderful love to avail?
God in Heaven — O teach me!
My prayer has been answered. The pain thou must bear
Is the pain of the world’s life which thy life must share.
Thou art one with the world — though I love thee the best;
And to save thee from pain I must save all the rest —
Well — with God’s help I’ll do it!
Thou art one with the rest. I must love thee in them.
Thou wilt sin with the rest; and thy mother must stem
The world’s sin. Thou wilt weep; and thy mother must dry
The tears of the world lest her darling should cry.
I will do it — God helping!
And I stand not alone. I will gather a band
Of all loving mothers from land unto land.
Our children are part of the world! do ye hear?
They are one with the world — we must hold them all dear!
Love all for the child’s sake!
For the sake of my child I must hasten to save
All the children on earth from the jail and the grave.
For so, and so only, I lighten the share
Of the pain of the world that my darling must bear —
Even so, and so only!
SERVICES.
SHE was dead. Forth went the word,
And every creature heard.
To the last hamlet in the farthest lands,
To people countless as the sands
Of primal seas.
And with the word so sent
Her life’s full record went,
Of what fair line, how gifted, how endowed,
How educated; and then, told aloud,
The splendid tale of what her life had done;
And all the people heard and felt as one;
Exulting all together in their dead,
And the grand story of the life she led.
But in the city where her body lay
Great services were held on that fair day:
People by thousands; music to the sky;
Flowers of a garnered season; winding by,
Processions, glorious in rich array,
All massing in the temple where she lay.
Then, when the music rested, rose and stood
Those who could speak of her and count the good,
The measureless great good her life had spread,
That all might hear the praises of their dead.
And those who loved her sent from the world’s end
Their tribute to the memory of their friend;
While teachers to their children whispered low,
“See that you have as many when you go!”
Then was recited how her life had part
In building up this science and that art,
Inventing here, administering there,
Helping to organize, create, prepare,
With fullest figures to expatiate
On her unmeasured value to the state.
And the child, listening, grew in noble pride,
And planned for greater praises when he died.
Then the Poet spoke of those long ripening years;
And tenderer music brought the grateful tears;
And then, lest grief upon their heartstrings hang,
Her children stood around the bier and sang:
In the name of the mother that bore us —
Bore us strong — bore us free —
We will strive in the labors before us,
Even as she! Even as she!
In the name of her wisdom and beauty,
Of her life full of light,
We will live in our national duly,
We will help on the right:
We will love as her heart loved before us,
Warm and wide — strong and high!
In the name of the mother that bore us,
We will live! We will die!
IN MOTHER-TIME.
WHEN woman looks at woman with the glory in her eyes,
When eternity lies open like a scroll,
When immortal life is being felt, the life that never dies,
And the triumph of it ringeth
And the sweetness of it singeth
In the soul,
Then we come to California, the Garden of the Lord,
Through all its leagues of endless blossoming;
And we sing, we sing together, to the whole world’s deep accord —
And we feel each other praying
Over what the flowers are saying
As we sing.
We were waiting, we were growing, glad of heart and strong of soul,
Like the peace and power of all these virgin lands;
Through the years of holy maidenhood with motherhood for goal —
And soon we shall be holding
Fruit of all life’s glad unfolding
In our hands.
White-robed mothers, flower-crowned mothers, in the splendor of their youth,
In the grandeur of maturity and power;
Feeling life has passed the telling in its joyousness and truth,
Feeling life will soon be giving
Them the golden key of living
In one hoar.
We come to California for the sunshine and the flowers;
Our motherhood has brought us here as one;
For the fruit of all the ages should share the shining hours,
With the blossoms ever-springing
And the golden globes low swinging,
In the sun.
SHE WHO IS TO COME.
A WOMAN — in so far as she beholdeth
Her one Beloved’s face;
A mother — with a great heart that enfoldeth
The children of the Race;
A body, free and strong, with that high beauty
That comes of perfect use, is built thereof;
A mind where Reason ruleth over Duty,
<
br /> And Justice reigns with Love;
A self-poised, royal soul, brave, wise, and tender,
No longer blind and dumb;
A Human Being, of an unknown splendor,
Is she who is to come!
GIRLS OF TO-DAY.
GIRLS of to-day! Give ear!
Never since time began
Has come to the race of man
A year, a day, an hour,
So full of promise and power
As the time that now is here!
Never in all the lands
Was there a power so great,
To move the wheels of state,
To lift up body and mind,
To waken the deaf and blind,
As the power that is in your hands i
Here at the gates of gold
You stand in the pride of youth,
Strong in courage and truth,
Stirred by a force kept back
Through centuries long and black,
Armed with a power threefold!
First: You are makers of men!
Then Be the things you preach!
Let your own greatness teach!
When mothers like this you see
Men will be strong and free —
Then, and not till then!
Second: Since Adam fell,
Have you not heard it said
That men by women are led?
True is the saying — true! See to it what you do!
See that you lead them well!
Third: You have work of your own!
Maid and mother and wife,
Look in the face of life!
There are duties you owe the race!
Outside your dwelling-place
There is work for you alone!
Maid and mother and wife,
See your own work be done!
Be worthy a noble son!
Help man in the upward way!
Truly, a girl to-day
Is the strongest thing in life!
WE, AS WOMEN.
THERE’s a cry in the air about us —
We hear it before, behind —
Of the way in which “We, as women,”
Are going to lift mankind!
With our white frocks starched and ruffled,
And our soft hair brushed and curled —
Hats off! for “we, as women,”
Are coming to help the world!
Fair sisters, listen one moment —
And perhaps you’ll pause for ten:
The business of women as women
Is only with men as men!
What we do, “we, as women,”
We have done all through our life;
The work that is ours as women
Is the work of mother and wife t
But to elevate public opinion,
And to lift up erring man,
Is the work of the Human Being;
Let us do it — if we can.
But wait, warm-hearted sisters —
Not quite so fast, so far.
Tell me how we are going to lift a thing
Arty higher than we are!
We are going to “purify politics.”
And to “elevate the press.”
We enter the foul paths of the world
To sweeten and cleanse and bless.
To hear the high things we are going to do,
And the horrors of man we tell,
One would think “we, as women,” were angels,
And our brothers were fiends of hell.
We, that were born of one mother,
And reared in the selfsame place,
In the school and the church together,
We, of one blood, one race!
Now then, all forward together!
But remember, every one,
That it is not by feminine innocence
The work of the world is done.
The world needs strength and courage,
And wisdom to help and feed —
When “we, as women,” bring these to man,
We shall lift the world indeed!
IF MOTHER KNEW.
IF mother knew the way I felt,
And I’m sure a mother should,
She wouldn’t make it quite so hard
For a person to be good!
I want to do the way she says;
I try to all day long;
And then she just skips all the right,
And pounces on the wrong!
A dozen times I do a thing,
And one time I forget;
And then she looks at me and asks
If I can’t remember yet?
She’ll tell me to do something,
And I’ll really start to go;
But she’ll keep right on telling it
As if I didn’t know.
Till it seems as if I couldn’t —
It makes me kind of wild;
And then she says she never saw
Such a disobliging child.
I go to bed all sorry,
And say my prayers, and cry,
And mean next day to be so good
I just can’t wait to try.
And I get up next morning,
And mean to do just right;
But mother’s sure to scold me
About something, before night.
I wonder if she really thinks
A child could go so far,
As to be perfect all the time
As the grown up people are!
If she only knew I tried to,
And I’m sure a mother should,
She wouldn’t make it quite so hard
For a person to be good!
THE ANTI-SUFFRAGISTS.
FASHIONABLE women in luxurious homes,
With men to feed them, clothe them, pay their bills,
Bow, doff the hat, and fetch the handkerchief;
Hostess or guest, and always so supplied
With graceful deference and courtesy;
Surrounded by their servants, horses, dogs,
These tell us they have all the rights they want.
Successful women who have won their way
Alone, with strength of their unaided arm,
Or helped by friends, or softly climbing up
By the sweet aid of “woman’s influence;”
Successful any way, and caring naught
For any other woman’s unsuccess,
These tell us they have all the rights they want.
Religious women of the feebler sort,
Not the religion of a righteous world,
A free, enlightened, upward-reaching world,
But the religion that considers life
As something to back out of! — whose ideal
Is to renounce, submit, and sacrifice,
Counting on being patted on the head
And given a high chair when they get to heaven,
These tell us they have all the rights they want.
Ignorant women — college-bred sometimes,
But ignorant of life’s realities
And principles of righteous government,
And how the privileges they enjoy
Were won with blood and tears by those before —
Those they condemn, whose ways they now oppose;
Saying, “Why not let well enough alone?
Our world is very pleasant as it is,” —
These tell us they have all the rights they want.
And selfish women, pigs in petticoats,
Rich, poor, wise, unwise, top or bottom round,
But all sublimely innocent of thought,
And guiltless of ambition, save the one
Deep, voiceless aspiration — to be fed!
These have no use for rights or duties more.
Duties to-day are more than they can meet,
And law insures their right to clothes and food,
These tell us they have all the rights they w
ant.
And, more’s the pity, some good women, too;
Good conscientious women, with ideas;
Who think — or think they think — that woman’s cause
Is best advanced by letting it alone;
That she somehow is not a human thing,
And not to be helped on by human means,
Just added to humanity — an “L “ —
A wing, a branch, an extra, not mankind,
These tell us they have all the rights they want.
And out of these has come a monstrous thing,
A strange, down-sucking whirlpool of disgrace,
Women uniting against womanhood,
And using that great name to hide their sin!
Vain are their words as that old king’s command
Who set his will against the rising tide.
But who shall measure the historic shame
Of these poor traitors — traitors are they all —
To great Democracy and Womanhood!
WOMEN DO NOT WANT IT.
WHEN the woman suffrage argument first stood upon its legs,
They answered it with cabbages, they answered it with eggs,
They answered it with ridicule, they answered it with scorn,
They thought it a monstrosity that should not have been born.
When the woman suffrage argument grew vigorous and wise,
And was not to be silenced by these apposite replies,
They turned their opposition into reasoning severe
Upon the limitations of our God-appointed sphere.
We were told of disabilities, a long array of these,
Till one would think that womanhood was merely a disease;
And “the maternal sacrifice” was added to the plan
Of the various sacrifices we have always made — to man.
Religionists and scientists, in amity and bliss,
However else they disagreed, could all agree on this,
And the gist of all their discourse, when you got down to it,
Was — we could not have the ballot because we were not fit!
They would not hear to reason, they would not fairly yield,
They would not own their arguments were beaten in the field;
But time passed on, and someway, we need not ask them how,
Whatever ails those arguments — we do not hear them now!
You may talk of woman suffrage now with an educated man,
And he agrees with all you say, as sweetly as he can;
‘T would be better for us all, of course, if womanhood was free;
But “the women do not want it” — and so it must not be!
‘T is such a tender thoughtfulness! So exquisite a care!
Complete Works of Charlotte Perkins Gilman Page 179
