Classic Poem

No sword have I, no battle-blade,
Nor shining spear; how shall I aid
My country in her great crusade?

I cannot sow with gold the sod,
Like Dragon's teeth, and from the clod
See armëd men rise, battle-shod.

I may not stand in mart or hall
And shout aloud great Freedom's call,
“Come to the rescue, one and all!”

I am a woman, weak and slight,
No voice to plead, no arm to fight,
Yet burning to support the right.

How shall I aid my country's cause?
How help avenge her trampled laws?
Alas, my woman's heart makes pause.

With oil and wine I may not go
Where wounded men toss to and fro,
Beneath the invader's hand laid low.

My little child looks up to me
And lisps a stronger, mightier plea;
God wills where he is I should be.

Ah well, I am not needed! He
Who knows my heart, perchance, for me
Has other work than now I see.

“They also serve who stand and wait.”
Oh, golden words! and not too late,
My soul accepts her humbler fate.

Content to serve in any way,
Less than the least, if so I may
But hail the dawning of that day,

When my beloved land shall rise,
And shout as one man to the skies,
“Lo, Freedom lives and Slavery dies!”