Upton Sinclair, ed. (1878–1968). rn The Cry for Justice: An Anthology of the Literature of Social Protest. 1915.

The Factories

Margaret Widdemer

(Contemporary American poet)

I HAVE shut my little sister in from life and light

(For a rose, for a ribbon, for a wreath across my hair),

I have made her restless feet still until the night,

Locked from sweets of summer and from wild spring air;

I who ranged the meadow lands, free from sun to sun,

Free to sing and pull the buds and watch the far wings fly,

I have bound my sister till her playing-time is done—

Oh, my little sister, was it I?—was it I?

I have robbed my sister of her day of maidenhood

(For a robe, for a feather, for a trinket’s restless spark),

Shut from Love till dusk shall fall, how shall she know good,

How shall she pass scatheless through the sinlit dark?

I who could be innocent, I who could be gay,

I who could have love and mirth before the light went by,

I have put my sister in her mating-time away—

Sister, my young sister,—was it I?—was it I?

I have robbed my sister of the lips against her breast

(For a coin, for the weaving of my children’s lace and lawn),

Feet that pace beside the loom, hands that cannot rest,

How can she know motherhood, whose strength is gone?

I who took no heed of her, starved and labor-worn,

I against whose placid heart my sleepy gold heads lie,

Round my path they cry to me, little souls unborn,

God of Life—Creator! It was I! It was I!