Oh, dwarfed and wronged, and stained with ill, <br />Behold! thou art a woman still! <br />And, by that sacred name and dear, <br />I bid thy better self appear. <br />Still, through thy foul disguise, I see <br />The rudimental purity, <br />That, spite of change and loss, makes good <br />Thy birthright-claim of womanhood; <br />An inward loathing, deep, intense; <br />A shame that is half innocence. <br />Cast off the grave-clothes of thy sin! <br />Rise from the dust thou liest in, <br />As Mary rose at Jesus' word, <br />Redeemed and white before the Lord! <br />Reclairn thy lost soul! In His name, <br />Rise up, and break thy bonds of shame. <br />Art weak? He 's strong. Art fearful? Hear <br />The world's O'ercomer: 'Be of cheer!' <br />What lip shall judge when He approves? <br />Who dare to scorn the child He loves?<br /><br />John Greenleaf Whittier<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-woman-9/
