Oh, what an untold loss for Man, when she,
His one companion, lost the dignity
Conferred on Woman. Age on age will she
Suffer that loss; and through that loss will be
The slave of one whose mistress she should be.
So Man, whose intellect and powers still free
To muse on God and Immortality,
Learned to be lonely; and to find that she
No longer had the power, or wish to be
The sharer of his inner sanctuary.
Immersed in petty cares and miseries, she
No longer found, nor sought his sympathy.
The Woman was a chattel: she might be
Graced as you will; but oh, despised was she
For some unknown inferiority.
Her soul no longer cultivated, she
Declined from natural nobility:
The beauty of her person, verily,
Became a mere seducer: thus did she
Eve's footsteps follow, all unwittingly.
Oh, if to fallen Man the fall would be
So fatal as to alter destiny,
Poor fallen Woman, what a curse would be
Her lot, fighting at once with slavery
And with the sense of innate dignity.
Yet through the darkest ages, verily,
Woman retains her graces. Let her be
Contemned, despised, abandoned; yet will she
The dictates follow of her heart, and be
Faithful to death in his extremity.
Selfless and self-denying found to be,
E'en as an outcast from society;
Hopeful and helpful and long suffering she,
Ready to spend, or to be spent - so she
His Guardian Angel may acknowledged be.
- text taken from Mary: The Perfect Woman, by Emily Mary Shapcote