THE CONGRESS OF WOMEN.
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But of Pilgrim Mothers—how little we know!
They were patient, and true, and so brave,
‘Mid the direst want, and hardships of war,
They walked from cradle to grave.
For this century now, on the roll of old Time,
Was a darkened and bloody page;
For the pale-face oft fell ’neath the tomahawk Of the red-man’s violent rage.
We censure him not, for such cruel greed,
And treachery dark, was oft made The means that were used to drive him far back From his own forest home, and his glade.
Had the British invaders but practiced the rule Laid down in their Gospel, I ween That this land would not have been stained with their blood, Nor massacres ever been seen.
THIRD PERIOD.
The colonies soon formed, a little brave group,
All told there were only thirteen;
They cast aside all their swaddling bands,
And entered a wild, untried scene.
Brave fathers and sons then entered that strife,
Caring nothing for what it might cost,
Gave their money, their homes, their treasures—themselves That their liberties might not be lost.
While patriots breathe, and country remains,
This thought in our memory fix—
No grander souls have ever lived Than the women of’76.
But this strife passed away, peace spread her bright wing, Washington sat with his kingly brow At the close of the year of his crucial test,
A century ago, just now.
Fathers and husbands, brothers and sons,
Were counted as gold then, we know;
But what of the women who lived and who loved One hundred long years ago?
The mothers and wives toiled early and late,
At the cradle, the wheel, and the loom,
But for books, for study, for culture of mind,
In their lives there was little room.
The brothers and sons must go off to school,
Must learn figures to the “ Rule of Three;’
Enter college—university—read Latin and Greek,
Pluck rich fruit from the knowledge tree.
But the girls were too weak, of too little account,
Had not brains then to learn any rule;
They could spin, and could weave, could nurse, cook and sweep, But were too feeble-minded for school.