“They know not, cannot guess
How much their welfare is a passion to us.
If we could give them surer, quicker proof—
Oh! if our end were less achievable
By slow approaches, than by single act
Of immolation; any phase of death;
We were as prompt to spring against the pikes,
Or down the fiery gulf, as talk of it,
To compass our dear sisters’ liberties.”
And as the womanly elements gain ascendancy in her nature, how beautifully the poet tells of the dawning of love in her heart: