Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895.
Sir Gilbert Parker 1862–1932Sonnets from “A Lover’s Diary.” II. A Woman’s Hand
Parker-GBut felt the touch of some good woman’s palm;
None ever reached God’s altitude of calm,
But heard one voice cry, “Follow!” from the throng.
I would not place her as an image high
Above my reach, cold, in some dim recess,
Where never she should feel a warm caress
Of this my hand that serves her till I die.
I would not set her higher than my heart,—
Though she is nobler than I e’er can be,—
Because she placed me from the crowd apart,
And with her tenderness she honored me.
Because of this, I hold me worthier
To be her kinsman, while I worship her.
That with its touch I have walked all my days;
Rising from fateful and forbidden ways,
To find a woman’s hand upon my brow,
Soft as a pad of rose-leaves, and as pure
As upraised palms of angels, seen in dreams:
And soothed by it, to stand as it beseems
A man who strives to conquer and endure.
A woman’s hand!—There is no better thing
Of all things human; it is half divine;
It hath been more to this lame life of mine,
When faith was weakness, and despair was king.
Man more than all men, Thou wast glad to bless
A woman’s sacrifice and tenderness.