{"id":8285,"date":"2022-06-14T01:00:00","date_gmt":"2022-06-14T05:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.newspaperhistory.com\/?p=8285"},"modified":"2022-06-14T01:00:00","modified_gmt":"2022-06-14T05:00:00","slug":"a-militant","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/a-militant\/","title":{"rendered":"A Militant"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<p><em>From <a href=\"https:\/\/chroniclingamerica.loc.gov\/lccn\/sn83030272\/1914-06-14\/ed-1\/seq-73\/\">The Sun, June 14, 1914<\/a>. By W. J. Lampton.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n\n<p>She was an elder woman and she came<br\/>Into my office with no shrink of shame.<br\/>But with a manner most aggressively<br\/>As though she owned the whole darn place and me.<br\/>\u201cGood morning, Ma\u2019am,\u201d I said in my best way,<br\/>\u201cWhat is there I can do for you today?\u201d<br\/>She held me with her eagle eye<br\/>Nor passed my imperfections by.<br\/>\u201cBreathes there the man with soul so dead<br\/>Who never to himself hath said:<br\/>\u2018Women shall vote\u2019?\u201d \u2019Twas thus she spoke,<br\/>And guileless I, considering it a joke,<br\/>Responded, \u201cWell, really now, I cannot say<br\/>But souls don\u2019t die, Ma\u2019am, down our way.\u201d<br\/>Then burned her swarthy cheek like fire<br\/>And shook her very frame for ire\u2014<br\/>\u201cStrike, if you will, this old gray head,<br\/>But share your votes with us,\u201d she said.<br\/>Regardless of what might occur,<br\/>I braced myself and answered her:<br\/>\u201cIndeed, I would most gladly share<br\/>My vote with you, O lady fair,<br\/>But truly now, it can\u2019t be done,<br\/>Because you see I have but one,<br\/>And that the law, however snide,<br\/>Will not allow me to divide.\u201d<br\/>Her brow was sad, her eye, beneath,<br\/>Flashed like a falchion from its sheath:<br\/>\u201cWhen freedom, from her mountain height,<br\/>Unfurls her banner to the air,<br\/>She\u2019ll split the azure robe of night<br\/>And nail the votes of women there,\u201d<br\/>The lady said, and I replied<br\/>With this faint query on the side:<br\/>\u201cI hate to ask you so, it hurts,<br\/>But say, will Freedom wear slashed skirts?\u201d<br\/>She answered with a look of rage<br\/>Which hid the ashen hue of age:<br\/>\u201cLochiel, Lochiel, beware of the day<br\/>When the women shall meet thee in battle array.\u201d<br\/>\u201cBut Madam,\u201d I said, \u201cwhy speak to me thus?<br\/>My name isn\u2019t Lochiel. I don\u2019t know the cuss.\u201d<br\/>The flash of her dark, threatening eyes,<br\/>Forerunning thunder, took my size:<br\/>\u201cWhen Freedom\u2019s name is understood,<br\/>You\u2019ll not delight the wise and good;<br\/>You dare not set the women free<br\/>And give them law\u2019s equality.<br\/>Farewell, you horrid wretch; I can<br\/>Call you by no worse name than Man.\u201d<br\/>She turned to go and went so fast<br\/>I could not stay her as she passed;<br\/>And yet I would have done so, for<br\/>I am a peaceful bachelor<br\/>Who hates the very thought of war.<br\/>And sure, as far as I\u2019m concerned,<br\/>They may have suffrage and be derned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>From The Sun, June 14, 1914. By W. J. Lampton. She was an elder woman and she cameInto my office with no shrink of shame.But with a manner most aggressivelyAs though she owned the whole darn place and me.\u201cGood morning, Ma\u2019am,\u201d I said in my best way,\u201cWhat is there I can do for you today?\u201dShe [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,18],"tags":[302],"class_list":["post-8285","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-newspapers","category-the-sun","tag-w-j-lampton"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8285","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=8285"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8285\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8285"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8285"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8285"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}