O dready life,' we cry, ' O dreary life !
O dready life,' we cry, ' O dreary life !
There is no God,' the foolish saith, But none, 'There is no sorrow.' And nature oft the cry of faith In bitter need will borrow Eyes which the preacher could not school, By wayside graves are raised And lips say, 'God be pitiful,' Who ne'er said, 'God be praised.'
A woman cannot do the thing she ought, which means whatever perfect thing she can, in life, in art, in science, but she fears to let the perfect action take her part and rest there she must prove what she can do before she does it, -- prate of woman's rights, of woman's mission, woman's function, till the men (who are prating, too, on their side) cry, ''A woman's function plainly is... to talk.'' Poor souls, they are very reasonably vexed.
I knock and cry, -Undone, undone!
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories