Charlotte Perkins Stetson Gilman Biography

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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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!
...