O well have we done the old tasks! in the old, old ways
of earth.
We have kept the house in order, we have given the children
birth;
And our sons went out with their fathers, and left us
alone at the hearth!
We have cooked the meats for their table; we have woven
their cloth at the loom;
We have pulled the weeds from their gardens, and kept
the flowers in bloom;
And then we have sat and waited, alone in a silent room.
We have borne all the pains of travail in giving life to
the race;
We have toiled and saved, for the masters, and helped
them to power and place;
And when we asked for a pittance, they gave it with grudging
grace.
On the bold, bright face of the dollar all the evils of
earth are shown.
We are weary of love that is barter, and of virtue that
pines alone;
We are out in the world with the masters: we are finding
and claiming our own!
Poems of Problems. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox
London : Gay and Hancock, 1914.
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