Part 5 (2/2)

Chained to the years by the measureless wrong of man, Here I hang, here I suffer, here I cry, Since the light sprang forth from the dark, and the day began; Since the sky was sundered and saved from the sea, And the mouth of the beast was warm on the breast of the sod, And the birds' feet glittered like rings on the blossoming tree, And the rivers ran silver with scales, and the earth was thronged With creatures lovely and wild and sane and free; Till the Image of G.o.d arose from the dust and trod Woman and beast and bird into slavery.

Who has wronged me? Man who all earth has wronged: Who has mocked me? Man, who made mock of G.o.d.

CHORUS OF FIRST WOMEN.

Nay, what do you seek?

If of men we be chained, Our chains be of gold, If the fetters we break What conquest is gained?

Shall the hill-top outspread a pavilion more safe than our palaces hold?

Without toil we are fed, We have gold to our hire, We have kings at our thrall, And made smooth is our bed For the fools of desire.

We falter the world with our eyelids, at our laughter men scatter and fall.

What is freedom but danger, And death and disaster?

We are safe: Fool, to crave The unknown, the stranger!

More fettered the back than the burden; man bows; he is slave to a slave!

ANDROMEDA.

Yes, in most bitter waters have they drowned My spirit, and my soul grows grey on sleep!

What if with wreaths my empty hands are bound?

I am slave for all their roses, and I keep A tryst with cunning, and a troth with tears.

Time has kissed out my lips, and I am dumb.

I am so long called fool, I am become That fool--of street or shrine. My body bears Burden of men and children. I have been All that man has desired or dreamed of me.

I have trodden a double-weary way--with Sin, Or with Sin's pale, cold sister Chast.i.ty.

I am a thing of twilight. I am afraid.

Dull now and tame now; of myself so shamed.

Fortressed against redemption; visited Of the old dream so seldom, as things tamed Forget the life that their wild brother leads.

I am a hurt beast flinching at the light.

I have been palaced from the sun, and night Runs in my blood, and all night's blushless deeds!

CHORUS OF SECOND WOMEN.

Oh world so blind, so dumb to our desiring,-- To the vague cry and clamour of our being!

Oh world so dark to our supreme aspiring,-- To the pitiful strange travail of our freeing!

We weary not for love and lips to love us; These have been ours too often and too long; We have been hived too close; too sweet above us Tastes the bee's mouth to our honey-wearied tongue.

Not love, not love! Love was our first undoing, We have lived too long on heart-beats. None can tame The mind's new hunger, famished and pursuing, Unleashed, and crying its oppressor's name.

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