(A Poem to Honor Women)
The test of a woman is the fight that she makes,
The grit that she daily shows;
The way that she stands on her feet and takes
Fateís numerous bumps and blows.
A coward can smile when thereís aught to fear,
When nothing her progress bars,
But it takes a woman to stand up and cheer
While some other lady stars.
It isnít the victory after all,
But the fight that a sister makes;
The woman, who, driven against the wall,
Stands up erect and takes
The blows of fate with her head held high,
Bleeding and bruised and pale,
Is the woman whoíll win in the by and by,
For she isnít afraid to fail.
Itís the bumps you get and the jolts you get
And the shocks that your courage stands,
The hours of sorrow and vain regret,
The prize that escapes your hands,
That test your mettle and prove your worth;
It isnít the blows you deal,
But the blows you take on the good, old earth
That shows if our stuff is real.