Though the strings of his heart may be wrenched and riven By a maiden coquette who has led him along, She can be pardoned, excused and forgiven, For innocence blindfolded walks into wrong. But she who has willingly taken the fetter That Cupid forges at Hymen’s command-- Well, she is the woman who ought to know better; She needs no mercy at any man’s hand. In the game of hearts, though a woman be winner, The odds are ever against her, you know; The world is ready to call her a sinner, And man is ready to make her so. Shame is likely, and sorrow is certain, And the man has the best of it, end as it may. So now, my lady, we’ll drop the curtain, And put out the lights. We are through with our play. A PLEA. Columbia, large-hearted and tender, Too long for the good of your kin You have shared your home’s comfort and splendor With all who have asked to come in. The smile of your true eyes has lighted The way to your wide-open door; You have held out full hands and invited The beggar to take from your store. Your overrun proud sister nations, Whose offspring you help them to keep, Are sending their poorest relations-- Their unruly, vicious black sheep. Unwashed and unlettered you take them, And lo! we are pushed from your knee; We are governed by laws as _they_ make them, We are slaves in the land of the free. Columbia, you know the devotion Of those who have sprung from your soil. Shall aliens born over the ocean Dispute us the fruits of our toil? Most noble and gracious of mothers, Your children rise up and demand That you bring us no more foster-brothers To breed discontent in the land. Be prudent before you are zealous-- Not generous only, but just; Our hearts are grown wrathful and jealous Toward those who have outraged your trust. They jostle and crowd in our places, They sneer at the comforts you gave; We say, shut the door in their faces Until they have learned to behave. In hearts that are greedy and hateful, They harbor ill-will and deceit; They ask for more favors, ungrateful For those you have poured at their feet. Rise up in your grandeur, and straightway Bar out the bold, clamoring mass; Let sentinels stand at your gateway, To see who is worthy to pass. Give first to your own faithful toilers The freedom our birthright should claim, And take from these ruthless despoilers The power which they use to our shame. Columbia, too long you have dallied With foes whom you feed from your store; It is time that your wardens were rallied And stationed outside the locked door. THE SUMMER GIRL.