• Author: Unknown
• Editor: B-6591
• Newspaper: The Umpire volume 2
• Page Number:
• Date: 11 12 1913
• Tags:
• poetry

THE DIFFERENCE. He trod the Crimson Trail, indifferent grown, Till Folly almost claimed him for its own. Immune at last from the unsparing grief That stabs the soul in its initial crime; He cursed the folks who tried to bring relief, And damned the logic of a future time. But when a woman's voice reclaimed his soul, The world grew kind and helped him to his goal. She lived In Red Light town, despoiled of good, Till Folly almost knocked her dead as wood. She sent her soul into the depths of crime, And let it rot away for years and years. And then a man destroyed decay of time, And married her, despite the public's fears But when he had reclaimed her from the rack, The world grew cold with fear, and flung her back. We boast of magnanimity and grace, And aim to save the souls of every race. We treat the heathen of a far-off clime, With all the money we can collect; We take a convict who has served his time, And put him back in standing with the sect, But when a woman falls we stand and leer, And ridicule her through immortal fear. —Anonymous