Of tangible substance and of turbulent thought—
No thin, gray shadow of the life of man!
Your love, perchance, may set a crown on it;
But I may crown myself in other ways—
(As you have done, who are in one flesh with me).
I have no quarrel with you; but, henceforth
This you must know: The world is mine as yours—
The pulsing strength and passion and hurt of it:
The work I set my hand to, woman’s work,
Because I set my hand to it.