Large was that kingdom and vast her sphere,
And lightly she lifted and bore each burden.
Lightly she laughed in the eyes of fear,
For love was her recompense, love her guerdon.
And never in camp, or in cave, or in home,
Rose voice of mother or mate complaining.
And never the foot of her sought to roam,
Till love in the heart of the man seemed waning.

In the broad rich furrows by woman turned
Man, unwitting, set plough and harrow.
For worlds to conquer she had not yearned,
Till he spoke of her feminine sphere as 'narrow.'
The lullaby changed to a martial strain -
When he took her travail, and song for granted -
And forth she forged in his own domain -
Till the strange 'new woman,' the old supplanted.

'Strange' with the glow of a wakened soul,
And 'new' with the purpose of large endeavour,
She turned her face to the higher goal -
To the higher goal it is turned for ever.
Trade and science and craft and art,
Have opened their doors to the call of woman;
And greater she grows in her greater part,
More tenderly wise, and more sweetly human.

Brave foremothers of freedom's birth
Smile through space on your splendid daughters.