Classic Poem

While woman deems herself so small,
So frail, so slight a thing,
There seems no hope, no hope at all:
What gifts can mankind bring?

God's sweetness through her eyes should shine,
God's lilies in her hands;
God's tenderest roses she should twine
In soft pure bright hair-bands.

Unless she bringeth heaven to man,
Man cannot reach the sky.
If woman cannot lift, who can?
This earth's last hope must die.

Beware, O earth! O man, beware!
Beware, O woman weak!
Drive not from hands and lips and hair
The angel who would speak.