I have to thank god I'm a woman,
For in these ordered days a woman only
Is free to be very hungry, very lonely.
It is sad for Feminism, but still clear
That man, more often than woman, is pioneer.
If I would confide a new thought,
First to a man must it be brought.
Now, for our sins, it is my bitter fate
That such a man wills soon to be my mate,
And so of friendship is quick end:
It is well within the order of things
That man should listen when his mate sings;
But the true male never yet walked
Who liked to listen when his mate talked.
I would be married to a full man,
As would all women since the world began;
But from a wealth of living I have proved
I must be silent, if I would be loved.
Now of my silence I have much wealth,
I have to do my thinking all by stealth.
My thoughts may never see the Day;
My mind is like a catacomb where early Christians pray.
And of my silence I have much pain,
But of these pangs I have great gain;
For I must take to drugs or drink,
Or I must write the things I think.
If my sex would let me speak,
I would be very lazy and most weak;
I should speak only, and the things I spoke
Would fill the air awhile, and clear like smoke.
The things I think now I write down,
And some day I will show them to the Town.
When I am sad I make thought clear;
I can re-read it all next year.
I have to thank God I'm a woman,
For in these ordered days a woman only
Is free to be very hungry, very lonely.
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