"
A Lady's Choice
Her old love in tears and silence had been building her a palace
Ringed by moats and flanked with towers, he had set it on a hill
"Here," he said, "will come no whisper of the world's alarms and
malice,
In these granite walls imprisoned, I will keep you safe from ill."
As he spoke along the highway there came riding by a stranger,
For an instant on her features, he a fleeting glance bestowed,
Then he said: "My heart is fickle and the world is full of danger,"
And he offered her his stirrup and he pointed down the road.
The Ballad of Lost Causes
(_About 465 years after Villon_.)
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.
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