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To peaceful altars of our homes
In scorn she points at last,
As lawless, now , she fiercely roams--
Change, the Iconoclast!
Through startled towns her banner floats,
Her vassals, oddly human,
Shrieking from amazonian throats :
"The Equal Rights of Woman!"
They hear affrighted, unto whom,
As high its volume swells,
Their Lares' and Penates' doom
That shriek triumphant tells.
For many an eager spirit years
To join the growing legions,
In purlieus of the pots and churns,
No less than loftier regions.
And will she vote? is met no more
With jest and scoff and sneer;
That which was fantasy before
Takes outlines firm and clear.
A weightier question stirs the time,
A gloomier thought perplexes,
While sorrier discords drown the chime
And harmony of sexes.
To some the future years unfold
Chaotic visions dire--
Sweet customs, beautiful and old,
Consumed in error's fire!
To others, the millenial plan
Reveals its dawning feature--
A woman for the Coming Man,
And man the lesser creature!
But wise are they who yet keep pure
What factious tongues disclaim--
Belief that God's just laws endure
Immutably the same;
That this wild creed shall surely pass,
Whoever its propounder,
And woman still continue as
Old Father Adam found her!
Walking amid no troublous fears
That throng the paths of men,
Wielding no editorial shears,
No keen polemic pen,
Daring no intellectual heights,
And neither sage nor preacher,
True womanhood has yet the "rights"
Fanatics cannot teach her.
What mission lovelier than to be
Home's angel, blithe and fair,
O thou in whose calm looks we see
A mother's holy care?