The Ballad of Lost Causes

Tell me in what spot remote

Do the antis dwell to-day,

Those who did not want to vote,

Feared their sex's prompt decay?

Where are those who used to say:

“Home alone is woman's sphere;

Only those should vote who slay”?

Where the snows of yester-year?

Where are those who used to quote

Nietzsche's words in dread array?

Where the ancient crones who wrote:

“Women rule through Beauty's sway”?

And those lovers, where are they,

Who could hold no woman dear

If she had the ballot? Nay!

Where the snows of yester-year?

Prince, inquire no more, I pray,

Whither antis disappear.

Suffrage won; they melt away,

Like the snows of yester-year.