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123

A DEDICATION TO LOUISA S. BEVINGTON

Thou art among the chief of those who lead
The way; thou bringest woman's soul to bear
Upon our new-world thought and mak'st it fair,
Adding flower-softness to the future's creed.
And thou hast taken part with those who bleed
Battling amid the turrets of despair,
And hast borne arrows of the high keen air,—
Shafts that around thought's iciest summits speed.
Therefore I singing in the early day,
While yet the dew upon the grass is sweet
And our hill-paths are printed by few feet,
Bring thee these poems of the cloudland grey,
Written on the ridge where night and morning meet,
Ere the old faiths' stars have wholly passed away.