Subtler than all sorceries
This tender breath upon mine eyes;
Surer than steel, though soft as air,
These fetters of caressing hair;
Yet they gall not me, nor smart,
Heart-fast to a girlish heart. Wakes upon the quiet night
Clamor of strife of might and right,
And bears unto a girlish ear
Vague messages of pain and fear,
And girlish arms more close enlace
To shield me in their weak embrace. Ah, I too had girded me
And stood among the strong and free, --
Had struck, and shrunk not, for the right,
Amid the red death of the fight, --
Had fought and won, or fallen with them
That wear the hero's diadem. I even now were smiting strong
In the front ranks, to smite the wrong,
But a girlish voice saith nay, --
Bids me stay, and I must stay.
Let Freedom rise, or faint, or fall,
Here is my faith, my fame, my all.