THE SPIRIT OF WOMEN
Your hearts are lifted up, your hearts
That have foreknown the utter price,
Your hearts burn upward like a flame
Of splendour and of sacrifice.
For you too, to battle go,
Not with the marching drums and cheers,
But in the watch of solitude
And through the boundless night of fears.
And not a shot comes blind with death,
And not a stab of steel is pressed
Home, but invisibly it tore,