The Life Of Woman Poem by Sophocles

I by myself am nought; yea, oftentimes
So look I upon all our womenkind,
That we are nothing. Young, we lead a life
Of all most joyous, in our father's house,
For want of knowledge is our kindly nurse;
But when we come to marriageable years,
Then are we pushed and bartered for away
From household gods and from our parents dear
Some unto alien husbands, some to men
Of stronger race, and some to homes full strange,
Or full of turmoil: and when one night bind us,
We needs must bear, and think of it as right.