The Ballad of Lost Causes

Tell me in what spot remote Do the antis dwell to-day, Those who did not want to vote, Feared their sex's prompt decay? Where are those who used to say: "Home alone is woman's sphere; Only those should vote who slay"? Where the snows of yester-year?

Where are those who used to quote Nietzsche's words in dread array? Where the ancient crones who wrote: "Women rule through Beauty's sway"? And those lovers, where are they, Who could hold no woman dear If she had the ballot? Nay! Where the snows of yester-year?

Prince, inquire no more, I pray, Whither antis disappear. Suffrage won; they melt away, Like the snows of yester-year.