TWO WOMEN

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

I know two women, and one is chaste

And cold as the snows on a winter waste,

Stainless ever in act and thought

( As a man, born dumb, in speech errs not ).

But she has malice toward her kind,

A cruel tongue and a jealous mind.

Void of pity and full of greed,

She judges the world by her narrow creed;

A brewer of quarrels, a breeder of hate,

Yet she holds the key to “Society's” Gate.

The other woman, with heart of flame,

Went mad for a love that marred her name:

And out of the grave of her murdered faith

She rose like a soul that has passed through death.

Her aims are noble, her pity so broad,

It covers the world like the mercy of God.

A soother of discord, a healer of woes,

Peace follows her footsteps wherever she goes.

The worthier life of the two, no doubt,

And yet “Society” locks her out.