Oh, how I loved him! or maybe
Loved some one that I thought was he.
They brought me—what? his mangled corse?
Would God they had! They brought me worse.
I saw one who should bear his name,
One whose pale face was fiercely grieved,
One whom he wantonly deceived,
And sentenced to a life of shame.
That was the end. I could not wed
A man whose nobler self was dead.
O, man!—a brave and god-like race,
But you can be so vile and base!
And when there is no urgent need,
You can protect us well indeed;
But when adversity is near,
When the wave breaks upon our head,
When we are crushed with want and dread,
Then we have most from you to fear.
Why do men strangely look me o'er
When I their mercy need the more?
Do they not know a girl may taste
The dregs of want and yet be chaste?
Should woman sell her soul away
To save its manacles of clay?
February 23, 1885.
All honest means of life have failed.
The small accomplishments I've tried
That pleased friends in my days of pride,
Are naught; but vice has not prevailed,
And, thank Heaven, should not, though my heart
Were torn a thousand times apart.
But God shield helpless girls alway
Who live on twenty cents a day!
February 24, 1885.
Weak, weak, still weaker do I grow:
My mournful fate I can but know;
God, keep me not long here, I pray,
To toil—on twenty cents a day!
February 26, 1885.