Father of Women and Other Poems — A Father of Women

"_Thy father was transfused into thy blood_."

_Dryden_: _Ode to Mrs. Anne Killigrew_.

Our father works in us, The daughters of his manhood.

Not undone Is he, not wasted, though transmuted thus, And though he left no son.

Therefore on him I cry To arm me: "For my delicate mind a casque, A breastplate for my heart, courage to die, Of thee, captain, I ask.

"Nor strengthen only; press A finger on this violent blood and pale, Over this rash will let thy tenderness A while pause, and prevail.

"And shepherd-father, thou Whose staff folded my thoughts before my birth, Control them now I am of earth, and now Thou art no more of earth.

"O liberal, constant, dear!

Crush in my nature the ungenerous art Of the inferior; set me high, and here, Here garner up thy heart."

Like to him now are they, The million living fathers of the War-- Mourning the crippled world, the bitter day-- Whose striplings are no more.

The crippled world!

Come then, Fathers of women with your honour in trust;

Approve, accept, know them daughters of men, Now that your sons are dust.