Charlotte Anna Perkins Gilman

Oh, dear! The Christian virtues will disappear! Nowhere on land or sea Will be room for charity! Nowhere, in field or city, A person to help or pity! Better for them, no doubt, Not to need helping out Of their old miry ditch. But, alas for us, the rich! For we shall lose, you see, Our boasted charity!— Lose all the pride and joy Of giving the poor employ, And money, and food, and love (And making stock thereof!). Our Christian virtues are gone, With nothing to practise on! It don’t hurt them a bit, For they can’t practise it; But it’s our great joy and pride— What virtue have we beside? We believe, as sure as we live, That it is more blessed to give Than to want, and waste, and grieve, And occasionally receive! And here are the people pressing To rob us of our pet blessing! No chance to endow or bedizen A hospital, school or prison, And leave our own proud name To Gratitude and Fame! No chance to do one good deed, To give what we do not need, To leave what we cannot use To those whom we deign to choose! When none want broken meat, How shall our cake be sweet? When none want flannels and coals, How shall we save our souls? Oh, dear! Oh, dear! The Christian virtues will disappear! The poor have their virtues rude,— Meekness and gratitude, Endurance, and respect For us, the world’s elect; Economy, self-denial, Patience in every trial, Self-sacrifice, self-restraint,— Virtues enough for a saint! Virtues enough to bear All this life’s sorrow and care! Virtues by which to rise To a front seat in the skies! How can they turn from this To common earthly bliss,— Mere clothes, and food, and drink, And leisure to read and think, And art, and beauty, and ease,— There is no crown for these! True, if their gratitude Were not for fire and food, They might still learn to bless The Lord for their happiness! And, instead of respect for wealth, Might learn from beauty, and health, And freedom in power and pelf, Each man to respect himself! And, instead of scraping and saving, Might learn from using and having That man’s life should be spent In a grand development! But this is petty and small; These are not virtues at all; They do not look as they should; They don’t do us any good! Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Oh, dear! The Christian virtues will disappear!

Fashionable women in luxurious homes, With men to feed them, clothe them, pay their bills, Bow, doff the hat, and fetch the handkerchief; Hostess or guest, and always so supplied With graceful deference and courtesy; Surrounded by their servants, horses, dogs, — These tell us they have all the rights they want. Successful women who have won their way Alone, with strength of their unaided arm, Or helped by friends, or softly climbing up By the sweet aid of ‘woman’s influence’; Successful any way, and caring naught For any other woman’s unsuccess, — These tell us they have all the rights they want. Religious women of the feebler sort, — Not the religion of a righteous world, A free, enlightened, upward-reaching world, But the religion that considers life As something to back out of! — whose ideal Is to renounce, submit, and sacrifice, Counting on being patted on the head And given a high chair when they get to heaven, — These tell us they have all the rights they want. Ignorant women — college-bred sometimes, But ignorant of life’s realities And principles of righteous government, And how the privileges they enjoy Were won with blood and tears by those before — Those they condemn, whose ways they now oppose; Saying, ‘Why not let well enough alone? Our world is very pleasant as it is,’ — These tell us they have all the rights they want. And selfish women, — pigs in petticoats, — Rich, poor, wise, unwise, top or bottom round, But all sublimely innocent of thought, And guiltless of ambition, save the one Deep, voiceless aspiration — to be fed! These have no use for rights or duties more. Duties today are more than they can meet, And law insures their right to clothes and food, — These tell us they have all the rights they want. And, more’s the pity, some good women, too; Good conscientious women, with ideas; Who think — or think they think — that woman’s cause Is best advanced by letting it alone; That she somehow is not a human thing, And not to be helped on by human means, Just added to humanity — an ‘L’ — A wing, a branch, an extra, not mankind, — These tell us they have all the rights they want. And out of these has come a monstrous thing, A strange, down-sucking whirlpool of disgrace, Women uniting against womanhood, And using that great name to hide their sin! Vain are their words as that old king’s command Who set his will against the rising tide. But who shall measure the historic shame Of these poor traitors — traitors are they all — To great Democracy and Womanhood!