Classic Poem

All women born are sisters; low or high,
Good, bad, indifferent or how you name
Your silk-beruffled and most haughty dame
Whose gilded carriage rumbles slowly by,
Your drunken courtesan with hair awry,
Barred, marred and scarred by branding irons of shame.
Lo! in their childhood they were all the same,
And have no false distinctions when they die.

Oh! sisters, to your own sex most unkind,
How will it fare you when you waste your breath
And sink like bubbles in the sea of Death,
If to your sisters you were deaf and blind?
Remember His forgiveness, which sufficed
For Magdalen, who washed the feet of Christ!