|
Once, when they were but slaves of men,
Before they could address a page with pen,
Women, discarded as folk with lesser brain,
Were but the Priesthood's secret shame.
And all the doctrines ancient poets wrote,
And Cardinals who, for themselves, did vote,
Gave not the woman high status as their own
Though surely she was possessed of skin and bone;
And claimed it true that she could not think at all
(Lest the man from grace, by her equal thinking, fall).
Yet now that time has made them ancient bards,
Those who play the game hold very different cards.
And of the poets, and praise be that I am one,
Today such thoughts from all of us have gone.
|