A RECOGNITION.
True genius, but true woman! dost deny
Thy woman's nature with a manly scorn,
And break away the gauds and armlets worn
By weaker woman in captivity?
Ah, vain denial! that revolted cry
Is sobbed in by a woman's voice forlorn:--
Thy woman's hair, my sister! all unshorn,
Floats back dishevelled strength in agony,
Disproving thy man's name; and while before
The world thou burnest in a poet-fire,
We see thy woman-heart beat evermore
Through the large flame. Beat purer, heart! and higher,
Till God unsex thee on the spirit-shore,
To which, alone unsexing, purely aspire!
* * * * *
This last sonnet seems to have been written after seeing the picture
of Sand, which represents her in a man's dress, but with long, loose
hair, and an eye whose mournful fire is impressive, even in the
caricatures.
For some years Sand has quitted her post of assailant. She has seen
that it is better to seek some form of life worthy to supersede the
old, than rudely to destroy it, heedless of the future. Her force is
bending towards philanthropic measures. She does not appear to possess
much of the constructive faculty; and, though her writings command a
great pecuniary compensation, and have a wide sway, it is rather for
their tendency than for their thought.
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