The Measure of a Woman
How shall we know the depth she brings,
Who walks with strength through hidden things?
By child she bears, by home she keeps,
By tears she hides, by dreams she reaps?
Is she the hands that soothe and mend,
The voice that sings, the heart that bends?
The quiet force that shapes the years,
With whispered hopes and steadfast tears?
Or is her worth beyond the eye—
A beacon lit beneath the sky?
She is the well from which life flows,
The earth from which all being grows.
No cradle rocked, no cry consoled,
Can sum the power her arms enfold.
She is not less, nor more than man—
But equal in the Maker’s plan.
For in her breath the cosmos stirs,
The dawn breaks gently out through hers.
And every soul, whate’er their fame,
First learned to love upon her name.