Show V 4 l MODERN WOMAN I J Oh olf wh where re are aIe th they y the flower o of men The noble nobl Tenn Tennyson on hath bath writ f from ron out m my heart A valiant knight of whom I 1 dreamed Or is is he wreckage from this baser biser sort Perhaps I should feel flattered I I could aggravate And bring great man to scandal scandalmongers scandalmonger's scandalmongers scandalmonger's scandalmongers scandalmonger's mongers monger's s state e. e t tH H He clamors loudly to to the world I cant can't compete Is this acknowledgment of his de defeat defeat defeat de- de feat Lo Here I stand I do not smoke nor drink I 1 need not baser words to phrase I ItIle the tIle thoughts I t think thin Yet he would clothe me with the robes of her Who forms minority had research been more thorough Perhaps his hs egotism too too too-is is born By close association with the class hed he'd morn mom Hed He'd find im truest colors rains never change Could he adjust his vision to a l wider range 4 Oh he of course he never under unde fatal spell Will Vill wake and find enchantment tricked him well But nut he with wilful sad perversion of the facts Hell He'll drape the best wherein his poor soul lacks Oh ohI I admit that I belong to him For without me how useless were his fondest whim Why condemn me he were it not nobler To call me worthy friend respect and not abhor Not as a huntress seek r T thus the hour of toil The few he may condemn me cannot cannot can can- not spoil spoil Does he hunt a sham this vain idealizing youth I Whose choice is sweet de deception eption and not truth I ask sk may I as as' as mother of mother of his race B Be e a strong of mind to help him Mm F win wina a place Where is his pride Why I whose sweating haggard face He scorns humbly seek strength to live in grace grace i Oh noble chastened man man who fights me not with deeds But clothes with lies the life that I should le lead d I hide my face in scorn of all that you would say For Tor shame of character that you ou portray Oh let me dream that they have I lived Vho Who cherished love lo gallant souls who for honor bled Or shall I weep that they have passed T To o higher realm There as Kings rule mong the dead |