Only a woman, shriveled and old,
The prey of the winds, and the prey of the cold!

Cheeks that are shrunken,
Eyes that are sunken,
Lips that were never o'erbold;

Only a woman: forsaken and poor,
Asking an alms at the bronze church-door.
 
Hark to the organ! roll upon roll
The waves of its music go over the soul!

Silks rustle past her
Thicker and faster:
The great bell ceases its toll.

Fain would she enter, but not for the poor
Swingeth wide open the bronze church door.
 
Only a woman waiting alone,
Icily cold on an ice-cold throne.

What do they care for her,
Mumbling a prayer for her,
Giving not bread but a stone.

Under gold laces their haughty hearts beat,
Mocking the woes of their kin in the street,.
 
Only a woman! In the older days
Hope carroled to her in happiest lays;

Somebody missed her,
Somebody kissed her,
Somebody crowned her with praise;

Somebody faced up the battles of life.
Strong for her sake who was mother or wife.
 
Somebody lies with a tress of her hair
Light on his heart where the death-shadows are;

Somebody waits for her,
Opening the gates for her,
Giving delight for despair.

Only a woman^___nevermore poor^___
Dead in the snow at the bronze church-door.

^__Ellen P. Allerton.