But lay thy hand in his on bridal day,
And swear to cling to him with wifely love
And tender reverence. Trust him who led
A sister woman to a fearful fate.
Yes, stone the woman, let the man go free!
Let one soul suffer for the guilt of two—
It is the doctrine of a hurried world,
Too out of breath for holding balances
Where nice distinctions and injustices
Are calmly weighed. But ah, how will it be
On that strange day of fire and flame,
When men shall wither with a mystic fear,
And all shall stand before the one true Judge?
Shall sex make then a difference in sin?
Shall He, the Searcher of the hidden heart,
In His eternal and divine decree
Condemn the woman and forgive the man?
ANONYMOUS.
*
IN PRISON.
God pity the wretched prisoners,
In their lonely cells to-day!
Whatever the sins that tripped them,
God pity them! still I say.
Only a strip of sunshine,
Cleft by rusty bars;
Only a patch of azure,
Only a cluster of stars;
Only a barren future,
To starve their hope upon;
Only stinging memories
Of a past that's better gone;
Only scorn from women.
Only hate from men,
Only remorse to whisper
Of a life that might have been.