WOMAN, IN GERMANY

The German mother has too long been what

A Chancellor once called the “Kingdom's Cow.”

Ah, as she bears the droves for slaughter, how

Her dumb-beast eyes crave pity for her lot!

See, there she smiles, like loving God forgot —

All His supernal patience on her brow.

How long must her grand arch of brain, as now,

Bear up a universe “of what should not”?

There, lies she, crushed by troops in hot pursuit

Of mocking shadows; for be Gain complete,

What is it but twin brother to defeat?

Stand up the dead on any bloody route.

Stoop for no kiss from orphans, at thy feet,

O Triumph! for ash-cord is all thy fruit.