Strike from their shoulders the transparent mesh;
Mark the Red Cross on the cloth for their flesh.
WHO ORDAINS:
Ye, men who seem women in work and at play;
Ye, who do blindly as women may say;
Ye, who kill life in the smug cabarets;
Ye, all, at the beck of the little tea-tray;
Ye, all, of the measure of daughters of clay.
Waken to face me: be women no more;
But fellow-men born, from top branch to the core;