"Is this the little woman that made this great war?" was Lincoln's
greeting to Harriet Beecher Stowe. Often a woman is responsible for
events by whose crash and splendor she herself is obscured. Often too
she shapes the career of husband or brother or son. A man succeeds and
reaps the honors of public applause, when in truth a quiet little woman
has made it all possible--has by her tact and encouragement held him to
his best, has had faith in him when his own faith has languished, has
cheered him with the unfailing assurance, "You can, you must, you will."
_Somewhere she waits to make you win, your soul in her firm, white hands--
Somewhere the gods have made for you, the Woman Who Understands!_
As the tide went out she found him
Lashed to a spar of Despair,
The wreck of his Ship around him--
The wreck of his Dreams in the air;
Found him and loved him and gathered
The soul of him close to her heart--
The soul that had sailed an uncharted sea,
The soul that had sought to win and be free--
The soul of which _she_ was part!
And there in the dusk she cried to the man,
"Win your battle--you can, you can!"
Broken by Fate, unrelenting,
Scarred by the lashings of Chance;
Bitter his heart--unrepenting--
Hardened by Circumstance;
Shadowed by Failure ever,
Cursing, he would have died,
But the touch of her hand, her strong warm hand,
And her love of his soul, took full command,
Just at the turn of the tide!
Standing beside him, filled with trust,
"Win!" she whispered, "you must, you must!"
Helping and loving and guiding,
Urging when that were best,
Holding her fears in hiding
Deep in her quiet breast;
This is the woman who kept him
True to his standards lost,
When, tossed in the storm and stress of strife,
He thought himself through with the game of life
And ready to pay the cost.
Watching and guarding, whispering still,
"Win you can--and you will, you will!"
This is the story of ages,
This is the Woman's way;
Wiser than seers or sages,
Lifting us day by day;
Facing all things with a courage
Nothing can daunt or dim,
Treading Life's path, wherever it leads--
Lined with flowers or choked with weeds,
But ever with him--with him!
Guidon--comrade--golden spur--
The men who win are helped by _her_!
_Somewhere she waits, strong in belief, your soul in her firm, white hands:
Thank well the gods, when she comes to you--the Woman Who Understands!_
_Everard Jack Appleton._