Thursday, April 28, 2011


By George Parsons Lathrop

Unarmed she goeth, yet her hands
Strike deeper awe than steel-caparisoned bands.
No fatal hurt of foe she fears,—
Veiled, as with marl, in mist of gentle tears.

'Gainst her thou canst not bar the door;
Like air she enters; where none dared before.
Even to the rich she can forgive
Their regal selfishness,—and let them live!

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