Classic Poem

" ONE of our senators, surely? "
Said the queer old girl to me;
I answered to her demurely
" Only a Member you see. "
" There is something dear about you, "
She said, with an aged bloom, —
" Were I young I would never doubt you:
Is this your Committee room? "

" Come in! " I said to the lady, —
'Twas a Saturday holiday —
" Shut the door! it will be more shady:
Are you December, or May?
Whichever, a magnetism
You shed on my widower life.
Your eyes are of crystal chrism, —
You make me think of my wife. "

" O thank you! that sounds so holy!
To many a wife I have been,
Though ever the wayward, lowly,
And penitent Magdalene:
But ever my Lord and Master
I knew from his kingly ken:
'Twas my glory and my disaster,
To worship the Congress men.

" Some women for sailors tarry,
Some are vivandieres in the camps,
Some Virgins are Wise and marry,
Some are Foolish and trim no lamps:
American or Roman,
Since this bright world began,
The proper place for woman
Is where she comforts Man! "

Reluctant admiration
My cold thoughts melted through:
" I see that you love our Nation? "
" I love all the men who do!
Great men deserve love younger, —
More beauteous than men common,
And ardently did I hunger
To be some patriot's woman.

" I heard a trumpet sounded
In my quiet countryside,
I followed the note as it bounded —
He loved me here and he died, —
Died while my youth betrothing;
Our souls were as pure as flame.
O, could I drop to nothing?
Or should I be true to Fame?

" Next, an old benevolent gentle
And a Senator called me his,
He was moral rather than mental
But he had a grandfatherly kiss;
I found he was somewhat roving
And it seemed just a little ingrate,
So I paid him off in loving
A dashing young Delegate.

" His State, it was soon admitted, —
Not I to the wedded state;
But his frailty I pardoned and pitied,
And called it political fate.
Then, a Christian statesman named me his spouse,
His church, and his bride of affairs;
He set me up in a furnished house
And helped me to say my prayers.

" They came from near and they came from far,
Bright spirits born to control,
As into a well burns a glorious star
Their ardor drank up my soul;
None dared, none needed, my love to buy,
And my beauty lasted well,
I yield to love my aged sigh —
Love is too sweet for hell.

" Smile not! I bear my testament,
Though not just the one who should,
That women are queer and different,
But all of the men are good!
Whenever this poor old life of mine ends,
I vow by the angels above,
I parted, with one and all, good friends,
And never did spite to love!

" Thank you! a little wine is good:
My head it is weak to-day.
Kind friend, say, am I misunderstood?
See I am so old and grey!
Let all your charity abide,
And Christ-like may you prove!
Here is a woman poor in pride
But rich as God in love! "

Her face grew long, her sight was dull,
Down sank the old grey head.
The old belle of the Capitol
Within its walls was dead.
Still follow Gods, who most forgive,
The loving and unclean,
And where the public heroes live
There loves the Magdalene.