Unmentionable

There is a thing of which I fain would speak,
Yet shun the deed;
Lest hot disgust flush the averted cheek
Of those who read.

And yet it is as common in our sight
As dust or grass;
Loathed by the lifted skirt, the tiptoe light,
Of those who pass.

We say no word, but the big placard rests
Frequent in view,
To sicken those who do not with requests
Of those who do.

“Gentlemen will not,” the mild placards say.
They read with scorn.
“Gentlemen must not”—they defile the way
Of those who warn.

On boat and car the careful lady lifts
Her dress aside;
If careless—think, fair traveller, of the gifts
Of those who ride!

On every hall and sidewalk, floor and stair,
Where man’s at home,
This loathsomeness is added to the care
Of those who come.

As some foul slug his trail of slime displays
On leaf and stalk,
These street-beasts make a horror in the ways
Of those who walk.

We cannot ask reform of those who do—
They can’t or won’t.
We can express the scorn, intense and true,
Of those who don’t.