Oh, my soul—my soul!
A female snake is born out of its mother's white egg, and lives awhile in content among weeds and grass, and dies.
A female dog lives some years, and has bones thrown at her, and sometimes she receives a kick or a blow, and a dog-house to sleep in, and dies.
A female bird has a nest, and worms to eat, and goes south in the winter, and presently she dies.
A female toad has a swamp or a garden, some bugs and flies, contentment—and then she dies.
And each of these has a male thing with her for a time, and soon there are little snakes or little dogs for her to love as much as it is given her to love—she can do no more.
And they are fortunate with their little snakes and little dogs.
A female human being is born out of her mother's fair body, branded with a strange, plague-tainted name, and let
