Deep in her eyes burn fires of purpose strong;
Her hand upholds the sceptre of God's truth;
Her lips send forth brave words against the wrong;
Glows in her heart the joy of deathless youth.
Kindly and gentle, learned too, and wise;
Lover of home and all the ties of kin;
Gay comrade of the laughing lips and eyes;
Give us new words to sing your praises in.
Yet let us rather now forget to praise,
Remembering only this true friend to greet,
As drawing near by straight and devious ways,
We lay our hearts—love's guerdon—at her feet.
Blow, O ye winds across the oceans, blow!
Go to the hills and prairies of the West!
Haste to the tropics, search the fields of snow,
Let the world's gift to her become your quest.
Shine, sun, through prism of the waterfall,
And build us here a rainbow arch to span
The years, and hold the citadel
Of her abiding work for God and man.
What is the gift, O winds, that ye have brought?
O, sun, what legend shines your arch above?
Ah, they are one, and all things else are naught,
Take them, beloved—they are love, love, love!
Mrs. Blatch spoke eloquently for her mother, saying in part:
I bring to you, Susan B. Anthony, the greetings of your friend and co-worker, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, greetings full of gracious memories. When the cause for which you have worked shall be victorious, then as is the way of the world, will it be forgotten that it ever meant effort or struggle for pioneers; but the friendship of you two women will remain a precious memory in the world's history, unforgotten and unforgettable. Your lives have proved not only that women can work strenuously together without jealousy, but that they can be friends in times of sunshine and peace, of stress and storm. No mere fair-weather friends have you been to each other.
Does not Emerson say that friendship is the slowest fruit in the garden of God? The fruit of friendship between you two has grown through half a hundred years, each year making it more beautiful, more mellow, more sweet. But you have not been weak echoes of each other; nay, often for the good of each you were thorns in the side. Yet disagreement only quickened loyalty. Supplementing each other, companionship drew out the best in each. You have both been urged to untiring efforts through the sympathy, the help of each other. You have attained the highest achievement in demonstrating a lofty, an ideal friendship. This friendship of you two women is the benediction for our century.
The last and tenderest tribute was offered by the Rev. Anna Howard Shaw who said, in rich, musical accents and with a manner which seemed almost to be inspired, what can only be most inadequately reported:
A little over a hundred years ago there came men who told us what freedom is and what freemen may become. Later women with the same love of it in their hearts said, "There is no sex in freedom. Whatever it makes possible for men it will make possible for women." A few of these daring souls went forth to blaze the path. Gradually the sunlight of freedom shone in their faces and they encouraged others to follow. They went slowly for the way was hard. They must make the path and it was a weary task. Sometimes darkness settled over them and they must grope their way. Mott, Stanton, Stone, Anthony—not one retraced her footsteps. The two who are left still stand on the summit, great, glorious figures. We ask, "Is the way difficult?" They answer, "Yes, but the sun shines on us and in the valley they know nothing of its glory. Their cry we hear and are calling back to those who are still in the valley."
Leader, comrade, friend, no name can express what you are to us. You might have led us as commander, and we might have followed and obeyed, but there still might have been wanting the divine force of unchanging love. We look up to the sunlight where you stand and say, "We are coming." When we shall be fourscore we shall still be calling to you, "We are coming," for you will still be beckoning us on as you climb still loftier heights. Souls like yours can never rest in all the eternities of God.