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And if she goes to make a call

a Or out to take a walk We leave our work when she returns

And run to hear her talk.

We had not dreamed these things were so

Of sorrow and of mirth.
Her speech is as a thousand eyes

Through which we see the earth.

God wove a web of loveliness,

Of clouds and stars and birds, But made not anything at all

So beautiful as words.

They shine around our simple earth

With golden shadowings, And

every common thing they touch Is exquisite with wings.

There's nothing poor and nothing small

But is made fair with them. They are the hands of living faith

That touch the garment's hem.

They are as fair as bloom or air,

They shine like any star,
And I am rich who learned from her
How beautiful they are.

Anna Hempstead Branch

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DEAD! One of them shot by the sea in the

east, And one of them shot in the west by the

sea. Dead! both my boys! When you sit at the

feast And are wanting a great song for Italy

free, Let none look at me!

Yet I was a poetess only last year,

And good at my art, for a woman men

said ;

But this woman, this, who is agoniz'd here, - The east sea and west sea rhyme on in

her head Forever instead.


What art can a woman be good at? Oh, vain! What art is she good at, but hurting her

breast With the milk-teeth of babes, and a smile

at the pain ? Ah boys, how you hurt! you were strong

as you pressed And I proud, by that test.

What art's for a woman? To hold on

her knees Both darlings; to feel all their arms

round her throat, Cling, strangle a little, to sew by de

And 'broider the long-clothes and neat

little coat;
To dream and to doat. .

To teach them. . . . It stings there! I

made them indeed Speak plain the word country. I taught

them, no doubt, That a country's a thing men should die

for at need. I prated of liberty, rights, and about The tyrant cast out.


And when their eyes flashed ...0 my

beautiful eyes! ... I exulted ; nay, let them go forth at the

wheels Of the guns, and denied not. But then

the surprise When one sits quite alone! Then one

weeps, then one kneels! God, how the house feels!

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