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A PROBLEM grave confronts us, but the issue we must face; It is not between the colors of the white- and dark-skinned race But a color that is deeper and is through and through a stain On equity and justice, where justice claims to reign. We have women here among us, who in the walls of time Have chiseled lasting monuments, with a Guiding Star Divine Toward a coliseum noble, with a hand as firm and true As the adamantine mountains, kissed with Heaven's gentle dew. Where the mothers and the daughters and the sturdy sons are seen; Where life is a reality and not a passing dream; Where the worthy gain the honors and impartial is the hand, Is the place where Woman's Suffrage is voiced throughout the land. They will vote to dwarf the license and to lift their children up; They will buy the needed comforts, with the price that fills the cup; They will thereby close the prisons and have churches in their stead-- And the poor-house victim, gauntly, will no longer beg for bread. But our poor existence rachet, which has round and round arrayed A niche so deep that furrows on our hearts have been assayed; Till the Nation is in danger, and cooperation's hand Must bear the Shepherd's crook, to save the hocks that roam the land. If we, as wheels of justice, would see the grinding due To our every-day conviction, like Apollos firm and true: Gird on the stand-pat armor of Suffragists, and then To annihilate the liquor would mean good-will to men. |
