She has been made to wait

Too long, undreaming and untaught

The touch and beauty of democracy.

But, entering now the strife

In which her saving sense is due,

She watches and she grows aware,

Holding a child more dear than property,

That the many perish to empower the few,

That homeless politics have split apart

The common country of the human heart.

(Your heart is beating, Celia, like a song!)

.... For man has need

Not merely of the lips that kiss and hands that feed

But of the hearts that heed

And of the minds that speed

Like rain.

Loving a mother or a wife,

Let him release her tenderness, to make him strong,

And use her beauty and receive her law:

The very life of life.

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