No more delicate gloves—no more laces,
No more trifling in boudoir or bower;
But come—with your souls in your faces—
To meet the stern needs of the hour.
* * * * *
Pass on! It is useless to linger
While others are claiming your care;
There’s need of your delicate finger,
For your womanly sympathy there.
There are sick ones athirst for caressing—