Charlotte Perkins Stetson Gilman

You who are happy in a thousand homes,
Or overworked therein, to a dumb peace;
Whose souls are wholly centered in the life
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Because the time is ripe, the age is ready,
Because the world her woman's help demands,
Out of the long subjection and seclusion
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She beats upon her bolted door,
With faint weak hands;
Drearily walks the narrow floor;
Sullenly sits, blank walls before;
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'Boys will be boys,' and boys have had their day;
Boy-mischief and boy-carelessness and noise
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Here is the House to hold me–cradle of all the race;
Here is my lord and my love, here are my children dear–
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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!
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SHE WALKETH veiled and sleeping,
For she knoweth not her power;
She obeyeth but the pleading
Of her heart, and the high leading
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'O come and be my mate!' said the Eagle to the Hen,
'I love to soar, but then
I want my mate to rest
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Day of hope and day of glory! After slavery and woe,
Comes the dawn of woman's freedom, and the light shall grow and grow
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The female fox she is a fox;
The female whale a whale;
The female eagle holds her place
As representative of race
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There was once a little animal,
No bigger than a fox,
And on five toes he scampered
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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–
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THERE'S a haunting horror near us
That nothing drives away;
Fierce lamping eyes at nightfall,
A crouching shade by day;
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Dear father, from my cradle I acknowledge
All your wise kindness, tender care, and love,
Through days of kindergarten, school, and college.
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Said the Socialist to the Suffragist:
'My cause is greater than yours!
You only work for a Special Class,
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Fashionable women in luxurious homes,
With men to feed them, clothe them, pay their bills,
Bow, doff the hat, and fetch the handkerchief;
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A woman–in so far as she beholdeth
Her one Beloved's face;
A mother–with a great heart that enfoldeth
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The garden beds I wandered by
One bright and cheerful morn,
When I found a new-fledged butterfly,
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Why is it, God, that mother's hearts are made
So very deep and wide?
How does it help the world that we should hold
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For fear of prowling beasts at night
They blocked the cave;
Women and children hid from sight,
Men scarce more brave.
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