A Woman to Her Lover

Do you come to me to bend me to your will as conqueror to the vanquished to make of me a bondslave to bear you children, wearing out my life in drudgery and silence no servant will I be if that be what you ask. O lover I refuse you!

Or if you think in me to find whose every deed and word and wish is golden a wingless angel who can do no wrong go! - I am no doll to dress and sit for feeble worship if that be what you ask, fool, I refuse you!

Or if you think to wed with one from heaven sent a creature who will have no greater joy than gratify your clamorous desire, my skin soft only for your fond caresses my body supple only for your sense delight. Oh shame, and pity and abasement. Not for you the hand of any wakened woman of our time.

But lover, if you ask of me that I shall be your comrade, friend, and mate, to live and work, to love and die with you, that so together we may know the purity and height of passion, and of joy and sorrow, then o husband, I am yours forever and our co-equal love will make the stars to laugh with joy and to its circling fugue pass, hand holding hand until we reach the very heart of God.