In nineteen hundred and something hence
The New Little Girl will kneel,
And from the depths of her modern heart
Send forth this strange appeal.
It will not be "I lay me down,"
And all the rest you know;
For that, I fear, for this New Child
Will be, ah, much too slow.
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"O Lord, bless Mamma, and if then
You've got the time, bless Pa;
Altho' he doesn't count at all --
The earth belongs to Ma.
Bless Sister, too; and if you've time
In all your busy whirl,
Make Brother duly contrite that
He wasn't born a girl.
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"Bless, then, the dear new President
Of our New Women's League!
And may she fill the lives of men
With worry and fatigue.
Then bless the noble woman's cause
Of freedom far and near;
And haste the time when Adamless
Shall be this Eden here.
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"And when the manless Paradise
Is all the earth below,
Then let us live a thousand years,
As they did long ago.
For it will be quite heaven enough
To satisfy us then;
So, once more bless the woman's cause --
I guess that's all. Amen."
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| -- New York World. |
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