The Trap

    She was taught desire in the street,
    Not at the angels' feet.
    By the good no word was said
    Of the worth of the bridal bed.
    The secret was learned from the vile,
    Not from her mother's smile.
    Home spoke not.    And the girl
    Was caught in the public whirl.
    Do you say "She gave consent:
    Life drunk, she was content
    With beasts that her fire could please?"
    But she did not choose disease
    Of mind and nerves and breath.
    She was trapped to a slow, foul death.
    The door was watched so well,
    That the steep dark stair to hell
    Was the only escaping way . . .
    "She gave consent," you say?

    Some think she was meek and good,
    Only lost in the wood
    Of youth, and deceived in man
    When the hunger of sex began
    That ties the husband and wife
    To the end in a strong fond life.
    Her captor, by chance was one
    Of those whose passion was done,
    A cold fierce worm of the sea
    Enslaving for you and me.
    The wages the poor must take
    Have forced them to serve this snake.
    Yea, half-paid girls must go
    For bread to his pit below.
    What hangman shall wait his host
    Of butchers from coast to coast,
    New York to the Golden Gate -
    The merger of death and fate,
    Lust-kings with a careful plan
    Clean-cut, American?

    In liberty's name we cry
    For these women about to die.

    O mothers who failed to tell
    The mazes of heaven and hell,
    Who failed to advise, implore
    Your daughters at Love's strange door,
    What will you do this day?
    Your dear ones are hidden away,
    As good as chained to the bed,
    Hid like the mad, or the dead: -
    The glories of endless years
    Drowned in their harlot-tears:
    The children they hoped to bear,
    Grandchildren strong and fair,
    The life for ages to be,
    Cut off like a blasted tree,
    Murdered in filth in a day,
    Somehow, by the merchant gay!

    In liberty's name we cry
    For these women about to die.

    What shall be said of a state
    Where traps for the white brides wait?
    Of sellers of drink who play
    The game for the extra pay?
    Of statesmen in league with all
    Who hope for the girl-child's fall?
    Of banks where hell's money is paid
    And Pharisees all afraid
    Of pandars that help them sin?
    When will our wrath begin?