XLI.
By her the progress of our future kind,
Their stalwart body and their spacious mind;
For, folded in her form each human mite
Has its first home, its sustenance and light;
Hers the live warmth that fans its spirit flame,
Her generous sap supplies its fleshly frame,
And e’en the juice,—the fullborn infant’s food,
Is yet a blanched form of woman’s living blood.