| Louis Untermeyer, ed. (1885–1977). Modern American Poetry. 1919. |
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| Margaret Widdemer. |
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| 125. Factories |
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| 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 meadowlands, free from sun to sun, | 5 |
| Free to sing and pull the buds and watch the far wings fly, | |
| I have bound my sister till her playing time was done— | |
| Oh, my little sister, was it I? Was it I? | |
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| I have robbed my sister of her day of maidenhood | |
| (For a robe, for a feather, for a trinket's restless spark), | 10 |
| Shut from love till dusk shall fall, how shall she know good, | |
| How shall she go scatheless through the sin-lit 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— | 15 |
| Sister, my young sister, was it I? Was it I? | |
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| 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? | 20 |
| 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! | |
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