A woman to her lover

Do you come to me to bend me to your will

as conqueror to the vanquished

to make of me a bondslave

to bear you children, wearing out my life

in drudgery and silence

no servant will I be

if that be what you ask. O lover I refuse you!

Or if you think to wed with one from heaven sent

whose every deed and word and wish is golden

a wingless angel who can do no wrong

go! - I am no doll to dress and sit for feeble worship

if that be what you ask, fool, I refuse you!

Or if you think in me to find

a creature who will have no greater joy

than gratify your clamorous desire,

my skin soft only for your fond caresses

my body supple only for your sense delight.

Oh shame, and pity and abasement.

Not for you the hand of any wakened woman of our time.

But lover, if you ask of me

that I shall be your comrade, friend, and mate,

to live and work, to love and die with you,

that so together we may know the purity and height

of passion, and of joy and sorrow,

then o husband, I am yours forever

and our co-equal love will make the stars to laugh with joy

and to its circling fugue pass, hand holding hand

until we reach the very heart of god.