The Empire Of Woman 2: The Daughter
The
iron
cares
that
load
and
press
men
down
A
father
can,
like
school-boy
tasks,
lay
by,
When
gazing
in
his
Daughter's
loving
eye,
Her
soft
arm
like
a
spell
around
him
thrown:
The
passions
that,
like
Upas'
leaves,
have
grown
Most
deadly
in
dark
places,
which
defy
Earth,
heaven
and
human
will,
even
these
were
shown
All
powerless
to
resist
the
pleading
cry
Which
pierced
a
savage
but
a
father's
ear,
And
shook
a
soul
where
pity's
pulse
seemed
dead;
When
Pocahontas,
heeding
not
the
fear
That
daunted
boldest
warriors,
laid
her
head
Beside
the
doomed!
Now
with
our
country's
fame,
Sweet
forest*
Daughter,
we
have
blent
thy
name.
