The castles that time has shattered
      Gleamed spotless and pearly white
    As they stood in the misty distance
      That borders the Land of Delight;
    Sleeping and waking I saw them
      Grow brighter and fairer each day;
    But, alas! at the touch of a finger
      They trembled and crumbled away!

    Then out of the dust I gathered
      A bit of untarnished gold,
    And a gem unharmed by contact
      With stones of a baser mold;
    For sometimes a priceless jewel
      Gleams wondrously pure and fair
    From glittering paste foundations
      Of castles we see in the air.

    So, I turned from the realms of fancy,
      As remote as the stars above,
    And into the land of the living
      I carried the jewel of love;
    The mansions of dazzling brightness
      Have crumbled away, it is true;
    But firm upon gold foundations
      Stands the cottage I built for you!

Verses

    You do but jest, sir, and you jest not well. 
    How could the hand be enemy of the arm,
    Or seed and sod be rivals?  How could light
    Feel jealousy of heat, plant of the leaf,
    Or competition dwell ’twixt lip and smile? 
    Are we not part and parcel of yourselves? 
    Like strands in one great braid we intertwine
    And make the perfect whole.  You could not be
    Unless we gave you birth:  we are the soil
    From which you sprang, yet sterile were that soil
    Save as you planted. (Though in the Book we read
    One woman bore a child with no man’s aid,
    We find no record of a man-child born
    Without the aid of woman!  Fatherhood
    Is but a small achievement at the best,
    While motherhood is heaven and hell.)
    This ever-growing argument of sex
    Is most unseemly, and devoid of sense. 
    Why waste more time in controversy, when
    There is not time enough for all of love,
    Our rightful occupation in this life? 
    Why prate of our defects—­of where we fail,
    When just the story of our worth would need
    Eternity for telling; and our best
    Development comes ever through your praise,
    As through our praise you reach your highest self? 
    Oh! had you not been miser of your praise
    And let our virtues be their own reward,
    The old established order of the world
    Would never have been changed.  Small blame is ours
    For this unsexing of ourselves, and worse
    Effeminizing of the male.  We were
    Content, sir, till you starved us, heart and brain. 
    All we have done, or wise or otherwise,
    Traced to the root, was done for love of you. 
    Let us taboo all vain comparisons,
    And go forth as God meant us, hand in hand,
    Companions, mates and comrades evermore;
    Two parts of one divinely ordained whole.