If, Of All Words Of

But, When The Goddess' Work Is Done,the Woman's Still Remains.

Hark! I Hear The Tramp Of Thousands, And Of Armèd Men The Hum; Lo, A Nation's Hosts Have Gathered Round The Quick Alarming Drum Saying, Come, Freemen, Come! Ere Your Heritage Be Wasted, Said The Quick Alarming Drum.

The Delicate Thought, That Cannot Find Expression, For Ruder Speech Too Fair, That, Like Thy Petals, Trembles In Possession, And Scatters On The Air.

When Folks Find I Ain't Afeard To Speak My Mind On Their Affairs, They Kinder Guess I'm Tellin' The Truth About My Own.

Never A Tear Bedims The Eye That Time And Patience Will Not Dry.