From the Rock Island Argus, January 21, 1914. By Henry Howland.
“Woman is nearer the savage state than man. Her only function is to bear children.” —Professor Sargent of Harvard.
She is nothing but a woman with a voice that’s soft and sweet,
Making sacred all she touches, e’en the dust beneath her feet,
With a laugh that’s sweetest music and a sigh that’s sweeter yet,
With a look that makes you wonder and remember and forget—
Just a woman who is pure,
With a faith serene and sure—
Who has made you somewhat better since the moment when you met.
She is nothing but a woman, of a lower type than man,
Her development restricted, fashioned on a poorer plan;
Learning little as the ages and the aeons roll away,
Made to serve a single purpose and remain unthinking clay;
Just a woman in whose eyes
All that’s true and tender lies,
Just a woman claiming graces as angels only may.
She is nothing but a woman who when days of trouble come—
When the friends of fairer moments turn their faces and are dumb—
Hovers near with tender glances and with words that soothe and cheer
Just a woman, hoping bravely when you weakly yield to fear;
Just a woman clinging fast
To the love that, at the last,
Shall become your sweet salvation, as the farther shores appear.