Woman-Lore Poem by Margaret Widdemer

NOW this is what you learn at last
Of men beneath the sun,
With all the gates of living passed
And all the kisses done–
That none are ever old indeed
And none are very wise,
And they will break you for their need
Or give you earth and skies:

And out of all between you two
For all the close years' gain,
The dearest gifts they give to you
Shall come with sorest pain–
(A pain your lips find still untold,
A joy they cannot see)
Your child they give your arms to hold,
Your child they grow to be.