So Philip learned (what Mildred saw), That love was like a well profound, From which two souls had right to draw, And in whose waters would be drowned The one who took the other's law. VII. Ambition was an alien word, Which Mildred faintly understood; Its poisoned breathing had not blurred The whiteness of her womanhood, Nor had its blatant trumpet stirred To quicker pulse her heart content. In social tasks and home employ, She did not question what it meant; But bore her woman's lot with joy And sweetness, wheresoe'er she went. If ever with unconscious thrill It touched her, in some vagrant dream, She only wished that God would fill With larger tide the goodly stream That flowed beside her, strong and still. She knew that love was more than fame, And happy conscience more than love;-- Far off and wild, the wings of flame! Close by, the pinions of the dove That hovered white above her name! She honored Philip as a man, And joyed in his supreme estate; But never dreamed that under ban She lives who never can be great, Or chieftain of a crowd or clan. The public eye was like a knife That pierced and plagued her shrinking heart. To be a woman, and a wife, With privilege to dwell apart, And hold unseen her modest life-- Alike from praise and blame aloof, And free to live and move in peace Beneath love's consecrated roof-- Was boon so great she could not cease Her thanks for the divine behoof. Black turns to brown and blue to blight Beneath the blemish of the sun; And e'en the spotless robe of white, Worn overlong, grows dim and dun Through the strange alchemy of light. Nor wives nor maidens, weak or brave, Can stand and face the public stare, And win the plaudits that they crave, And stem the hisses that they dare, And modest truth and beauty save. No woman, in her soul, is she Who longs to poise above the roar Of motley multitudes, and be The idol at whose feet they pour The wine of their idolatry. Coarse labor makes its doer coarse; Great burdens harden softest hands; A gentle voice grows harsh and hoarse That warns and threatens and commands Beyond the measure of its force. Oh sweet, beyond all speech, to feel Within no answer to the drum, Or echo to the bugle-peal, That calls to duties which benumb In service of the commonweal! Oh sweet to feel, beyond all speech, That most and best of human kind Have leave to live beyond the reach Of toil that tarnishes, and find No tongue but Envy's to impeach! Oh sweet, that most unnoticed deeds Give play to fine, heroic blood!-- That hid from light, and shut from weeds, The rose is fairer in its bud Than in the blossom that succeeds! He is the helpless slave who must; And she enfranchised who may sit Unblamed above the din and dust, Where stronger hands and coarser wit Strive equally for crown and crust.