Mates

It boots not to retrace the path

To ages dim and hoar,

When Man, at the domestic hearth,

First learned the art of war,

And-since in battle one must fall-

Held his defeated spouse in thrall,

That she should fight no more;

And thereby doomed to sleep and sloth

Strength that in action strengthened both.

It boots not when the better day

First showed a glint of morn,

Nor whose the eye that, in its ray,

Saw Woman’s chains outworn;

Nor which was first and which was last

When savage rivalry was past

And chivalry was born;

Enough for us that, free or pent,

Her primal treasure was misspent.

The waxing noontide sees them now

Joint sovereigns of the land,

No trace upon the gentler brow

Of the old helot brand.

Consenting that the right is right,

They walk as comrades-or they might-

For ever hand in hand.

Yet still a stronger leads and drags,

And still a weaker leans and lags.

Because we reap what we have sown,

And are as we were bred;

Because one passion, overgrown,

Since so long overfed,

Still works confusion to the scheme

Whereof both man and woman dream.

‘T’is the unnumbered dead

That laid it on him for a curse,

And her, its immemorial nurse.

But, with these tyrants in the dust,

Why should their ghosts hold sway?

Cut the long entail of their lust,

Heirs of a cleaner day!

Lift the dead hand from living mind,

Break the old spells that bind and blind,

O Woman, far astray!

And march with Man the open road

Without a fetter or a load.

Our pioneer brothers can discern

The sunlit heights around;

We, that should likewise look and learn,

Keep eyes upon the ground

And drug our feebleness with sweets

When needing tonic of strong meats;

And all our ways surround

With tangling trifles, gaud and toy,

That mock us with the name of joy.

What brains these fragile webs enmesh!

What soaring thought they tie!

What energies of soul and flesh

They still or stultify!

What wasted riches of the mind,

What wealth of genius, dumb and blind,

In shop and workroom lie,

While the great realms of life are stored

With such vast mystery unexplored!

Where were the sciences and arts

When men went plumed and curled?

Where were the brains, the hands, the hearts,

That now subdue the world-

The March of Progress, straight and true-

When men wore coats of every hue?

In childish swaddlings furled,

Their strength lay latent and unknown,

As ineffectual as our own.

Freed from this complicated coil

By mere vainglory spun,

Uprooted from this fruitless soil,

Unfed by rain or sun,

Where sleep the germs of noble deeds

In still unfructifying seeds,

Or leafage scarce begun-

This ash-heap or the poor and small

That chokes the greatness in us all-

Uplifted to the light-the place

Where Man his manhood found

When tyranny of silk and lace

No longer held him bound;

With eyes, from Fashion’s witchcraft clear,

For Beauty, simple and sincere,

And, unbeguiled by sound

Of siren wooings, quiet ears

For the high message that he hears:

The swelling call to loftier life

That, like a distant bell,

Chimes through the traffic and the strife

Of those who buy and sell;

Through camp and temple, field and street,

The market where we game and cheat,

The home wherein we dwell:-

Here should we stand, as strong, as free,

For splendid enterprise as he.

To him no flowering parasite

That only sucks and clings

To drain and enervate and blight,

But impulse to his wings;

His mate in passion, mate in power,

His soul’s wife, that for marriage dower

Exhaustless treasure brings-

The daily bread, the daily spur,

The day’s reward for him-and her.

Like woodland creatures, that have willed

To pair by Nature’s plan,

A woman finished and fulfilled

And a completed man;

To run together and abreast,

And side by side to fight or rest,

As when the world began;

Each bound to other, yet both free . . . .

It is not, but it ought to be.

Poetry Monster – Home

A few random poems:

External links

Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus

Talking Writing Monster’s Page –

Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh

Poems in English 

• Sonnet 94: They that have power to hurt and will do none by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 93: So shall I live, supposing thou art true by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 92: But do thy worst to steal thy self away by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 91: Some glory in their birth, some in their skill by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 90: Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 8: Music to hear, why hear’st thou music sadly? by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 89: Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 88: When thou shalt be disposed to set me light by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 87: Farewell! Thou art too dear for my possessing by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 86: Was it the proud full sail of his great verse by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 85: My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 84: Who is it that says most, which can say more by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 83: I never saw that you did painting need by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 82: I grant thou wert not married to my Muse by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 81: Or I shall live your epitaph to make by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 80: O, how I faint when I of you do write by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 7: Lo, in the orient when the gracious light by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 79: Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 78: So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 77: Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare

More external links (open in a new tab):

Russian Commerce Agency

Dealing Monster

Doska or the Board – write anything

Search engines:

Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)

Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.

Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees

Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.

Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.

 

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