Epigraph
Down through the ages, a picture has come of the woman who weepeth:
Tears are her birthright, and sorrow and sadness her portion:
Weeping endures for a night, and prolongeth its season
Far in the day, with the will of God
For a reason!
Such has the world long accepted, as fitting and real;
Plentiful have been the causes of grief, without stinting;
Patient and sad have the women accepted the ruling,
Learning life’s lessons, with hardly a word of complaint
At the schooling.
But there’s a limit to tears, even tears, and a new note is sounding:
Hitherto they have wept without hope, never seeing an ending;
Now hope has dawned in their poor lonely hearts,
And a message they’re sending
Over the world to their sisters in weeping, a message is flashing,
Flashing the brighter, for the skies are so dark
And war thunders crashing!
And this is the message the war-stricken women send out
In their sorrow:
“Yesterday and to-day have gone wrong,
But we still have to-morrow!”