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Are Women People? A Book of Rhymes for Suffrage Times — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
Are Women People? A Book of Rhymes for Suffrage Times

John Stuart Mill · en
Their love did more enslave her;
      They did not understand
    That none could guard or save her
      When war was on the land,
    But herself, and God, who gave her
      Heart and mind and hand.




Playthings


    Last year the shops were crowded
      With soldier suits and guns--
    The presents that at Christmas time
      We give our little sons;
    And many a glittering trumpet
      And many a sword and drum;
    But as they're made in Germany
      This year they will not come.

    Perhaps another season
      We shall not give our boys
    Such very warlike playthings,
      Such military toys;
    Perhaps another season
      We shall not think it sweet
    To watch their game of soldier men,
      Who dream not of defeat.




Militants


    Hippolta, Penthesilea,
      Maria Teresa and Joan,
    Agustina and Boadicea
      And some militant girls of our own--
    It would take a brave man and a dull one
      To say to these ladies: "Of course
    We adore you while meek,
    Timid, clinging and weak,
      But a woman can never use force."




A Lady's Choice


    Her old love in tears and silence had been building her a palace
      Ringed by moats and flanked with towers, he had set it on a hill
    "Here," he said, "will come no whisper of the world's alarms and
        malice,
      In these granite walls imprisoned, I will keep you safe from ill."

    As he spoke along the highway there came riding by a stranger,
      For an instant on her features, he a fleeting glance bestowed,
    Then he said: "My heart is fickle and the world is full of danger,"
      And he offered her his stirrup and he pointed down the road.




The Ballad of Lost Causes


(_About 465 years after Villon_.)


    Tell me in what spot remote
      Do the antis dwell to-day,
    Those who did not want to vote,
      Feared their sex's prompt decay?
      Where are those who used to say:
    "Home alone is woman's sphere;
      Only those should vote who slay"?
    Where the snows of yester-year?

    Where are those who used to quote
      Nietzsche's words in dread array?
    Where the ancient crones who wrote:
      "Women rule through Beauty's sway"?
      And those lovers, where are they,
    Who could hold no woman dear
      If she had the ballot? Nay!
    Where the snows of yester-year?

    Prince, inquire no more, I pray,
      Whither antis disappear.
    Suffrage won; they melt away,
      Like the snows of yester-year.




Thoughts at an Anti Meeting


    There are no homes in suffrage states,
      There are no children, glad and good,
    There, men no longer seek for mates,
      And women lose their womanhood.

    This I believe without debate,
      And yet I ask--and ask in vain--
    Why no one in a suffrage state
      Has moved to change things back again?




A MASQUE OF TEACHERS

AND

THE UNCONSCIOUS SUFFRAGISTS




The Ideal Candidates