She Walks in Beauty: A Woman's Journey Through Poems (7 page)

ANNE BRADSTREET

If ever two were one, then surely we.

If ever man were lov'd by wife, then thee;

If ever wife was happy in a man,

Compare with me ye women if you can.

I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold,

Or all the riches that the East doth hold.

My love is such that rivers cannot quench,

Nor aught but love from thee, give recompense.

Thy love is such I can no way repay,

The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.

Then while we live, in love let's so persever

That, when we live no more, we may live ever.

GAVIN EWART

In life's rough-and-tumble

you're the crumble on my apple crumble

and the fairy on my Christmas tree!

In life's death-and-duty

you've the beauty of the Beast's own Beauty—

I feel humble as a bumble-bee!

In life's darkening duel

I'm the lighter, you're the lighter fuel—

and the tide that sways my inland sea!

In life's meet-and-muster

you've the lustre of a diamond cluster—

a blockbuster—just a duster, me!

OGDEN NASH

To keep your marriage brimming,

With love in the loving cup,

Whenever you're wrong, admit it;

Whenever you're right, shut up.

LADY MARY CHUDLEIGH

Wife and servant are the same,

But only differ in the name:

For when that fatal knot is tied,

Which nothing, nothing can divide:

When she the word
obey
has said,

And man by law supreme has made,

Then all that's kind is laid aside,

And nothing left but state and pride:

Fierce as an Eastern prince he grows,

And all his innate rigour shows:

Then but to look, to laugh, or speak,

Will the nuptial contract break.

Like mutes she signs alone must make,

And never any freedom take:

But still be governed by a nod,

And fear her husband as a God:

Him still must serve, him still obey,

And nothing act, and nothing say,

But what her haughty lord thinks fit,

Who with the power, has all the wit.

Then shun, oh! shun that wretched state,

And all the fawning flatt'rers hate:

Value your selves, and men despise,

You must be proud, if you'll be wise.

RUDYARD KIPLING

When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,

He shouts to scare the monster, who will often turn aside.

But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail.

For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When Nag the basking cobra hears the careless foot of man,

He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it as he can.

But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail.

For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When the early Jesuit fathers preached to Hurons and Choctaws,

They prayed to be delivered from the vengeance of the squaws.

'Twas the women, not the warriors, turned those stark enthusiasts pale.

For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man's timid heart is bursting with the things he must not say,

For the Woman that God gave him isn't his to give away;

But when hunter meets with husband, each confirms the other's tale—

The female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man, a bear in most relations—worm and savage otherwise,—

Man propounds negotiations, Man accepts the compromise.

Very rarely will he squarely push the logic of a fact

To its ultimate conclusion in unmitigated act.

Fear, or foolishness, impels him, ere he lay the wicked low,

To concede some form of trial even to his fiercest foe.

Mirth obscene diverts his anger! Doubt and Pity oft perplex

Him in dealing with an issue—to the scandal of The Sex!

But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame

Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same;

And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail,

The female of the species must be deadlier than the male.

She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast

May not deal in doubt or pity—must not swerve for fact or jest.

These be purely male diversions—not in these her honour dwells.

She the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else.

She can bring no more to living than the powers that make her great

As the Mother of the Infant and the Mistress of the Mate!

And when Babe and Man are lacking and she strides unclaimed to claim

Her right as femme (and baron), her equipment is the same.

She is wedded to convictions—in default of grosser ties;

Her contentions are her children, Heaven help him who denies!—

He will meet no suave discussion, but the instant, white-hot, wild,

Wakened female of the species warring as for spouse and child.

Unprovoked and awful charges—even so the she-bear fights,

Speech that drips, corrodes and poisons—even so the cobra bites,

Scientific vivisection of one nerve till it is raw

And the victim writhes in anguish—like the Jesuit with the squaw!

So it comes that Man, the coward, when he gathers to confer

With his fellow-braves in council, dare not leave a place for her

Where, at war with Life and Conscience, he uplifts his erring hands

To some God of Abstract Justice—which no woman understands.

And Man knows it! Knows, moreover, that the Woman that God gave him

Must command but may not govern—shall enthral but not enslave him.

And
She
knows, because She warns him, and Her instincts never fail,

That the Female of Her Species is more deadly than the Male.

JOHN MILTON

Eve to herself after eating the apple:

I grow mature

In knowledge, as the gods who all things know;

Though others envy what they cannot give;

. . .

But to Adam in what sort

Shall I appear? shall I to him make known

As yet my change, and give him to partake

Full happiness with me, or rather not,

But keep the odds of knowledge in my power

Without copartner? so to add what wants

In female sex, the more to draw his love,

And render me more equal, and perhaps,

A thing not undesirable, sometime

Superior; for inferior who is free?

This may be well: but what if God have seen,

And death ensue? then I shall be no more,

And Adam wedded to another Eve,

Shall live with her enjoying, I extinct;

A death to think. Confirmed then I resolve,

Adam shall share with me in bliss or woe:

So dear I love him, that with him all deaths

I could endure, without him live no life.

. . .

 

Adam to himself after learning that Eve has eaten the apple:

O fairest of Creation, last and best

Of all God's works, creature in whom excelled

Whatever can to sight or thought be formed,

Holy, divine, good, amiable or sweet!

How art thou lost, how on a sudden lost,

Defaced, deflow'red, and now to death devote?

Rather how hast thou yielded to transgress

The strict forbiddance, how to violate

The sacred fruit forbidd'n! Some cursèd fraud

Of Enemy hath beguiled thee, yet unknown,

And me with thee hath ruined, for with thee

Certain my resolution is to die;

How can I live without thee, how forgo

Thy sweet convérse and love so dearly joined,

To live again in these wild woods forlorn?

Should God create another Eve, and I

Another rib afford, yet loss of thee

Would never from my heart; no no, I feel

The link of nature draw me: flesh of flesh,

Bone of my bone thou art, and from thy state

Mine never shall be parted, bliss or woe.

. . .

 

And later on:

Covered, but not at rest or ease of mind,

They sat them down to weep, nor only tears

Rained at their eyes, but high winds worse within

Began to rise, high passions, anger, hate,

Mistrust, suspicion, discord, and shook sore

Their inward state of mind, calm region once

And full of peace, now tossed and turbulent:

For understanding ruled not, and the will

Heard not her lore, both in subjection now

To sensual appetite, who from beneath

Usurping over sov'reign reason claimed

Superior sway: from thus distempered breast,

Adam, estranged in look and altered style,

Speech intermitted thus to Eve renewed.

Would thou hadst hearkened to my words, and stayed

With me, as I besought thee, when that strange

Desire of wand'ring this unhappy morn,

I know not whence possessed thee; we had then

Remained still happy, not as now, despoiled

Of all our good, shamed, naked, miserable.

Let none henceforth seek needless cause to approve

The faith they owe; when earnestly they seek

Such proof, conclude, they then begin to fail.

To whom soon moved with touch of blame thus Eve.

What words have passed thy lips, Adam severe,

Imput'st thou that to my default, or will

Of wand'ring, as thou call'st it, which who knows

But might as ill have happened thou being by,

Or to thyself perhaps: hadst thou been there,

Or here th' attempt, thou couldst not have discerned

Fraud in the serpent, speaking as he spake;

No ground of enmity between us known,

Why he should mean me ill, or seek to harm.

Was I to have never parted from thy side?

As good have grown there still a lifeless rib.

Being as I am, why didst not thou the head

Command me absolutely not to go,

Going into such danger as thou saidst?

Too facile then thou didst not much gainsay,

Nay, didst permit, approve, and fair dismiss.

Hadst thou been firm and fixed in thy dissent,

Neither had I transgressed, nor thou with me.

To whom then first incensed Adam replied.

Is this the love, is this the recompense

Of mine to thee, ingrateful Eve, expressed

Immutable when thou wert lost, not I,

Who might have lived and joyed immortal bliss,

Yet willingly chose rather death with thee:

And am I now upbraided, as the cause

Of thy transgressing? not enough severe,

It seems, in thy restraint: what could I more?

I warned thee, I admonished thee, foretold

The danger, and the lurking Enemy

That lay in wait; beyond this had been force,

And force upon free will hath here no place.

But confidence then bore thee on, secure

Either to meet no danger, or to find

Matter of glorious trial, and perhaps

I also erred in overmuch admiring

What seemed in thee so perfect, that I thought

No evil durst attempt thee, but I rue

That error now, which is become my crime,

And thou th' accuser. Thus it shall befall

Him who to worth in women overtrusting

Lets her will rule; restraint she will not brook,

And left to herself, if evil thence ensue,

She first his weak indulgence will accuse.

Thus they in mutual accusation spent

The fruitless hours, but neither self-condemning,

And of their vain contést appeared no end.

PROVERBS 31:10–31

Who can find a virtuous woman?

For her price is far above rubies.

The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her,

So that he shall have no need of spoil.

She will do him good and not evil

All the days of her life.

She seeketh wool and flax,

And worketh willingly with her hands.

She is like the merchants' ships;

She bringeth her food from afar.

She riseth also while it is yet night,

And giveth meat to her household, and a portion to her maidens.

She considereth a field, and buyeth it:

With the fruit of her hands she planteth a vineyard.

She girdeth her loins with strength,

And strengtheneth her arms.

She perceiveth that her merchandise is good:

Her candle goeth not out by night.

She layeth her hands to the spindle,

And her hands hold the distaff.

She stretcheth out her hand to the poor;

Yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy.

She is not afraid of the snow for her household:

For all her household are clothed with scarlet.

She maketh herself coverings of tapestry;

Her clothing is silk and purple.

Her husband is known in the gates,

When he sitteth among the elders of the land.

She maketh fine linen, and selleth it;

And delivereth girdles unto the merchant.

Strength and honor are her clothing;

And she shall rejoice in time to come.

She openeth her mouth with wisdom;

And in her tongue is the law of kindness.

She looketh well to the ways of her household,

And eateth not the bread of idleness.

Her children arise up, and call her blessed;

Her husband also, and he praiseth her:

“Many daughters have done virtuously,

But thou excellest them all.”

Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain:

But a woman that feareth the Lord,

She shall be praised.

Give her of the fruit of her hands;

and let her own works praise her in the gates.