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 | Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood |  |
“A friend!” Are you a friend? No, by my soul!
Since you dare breathe the shadow of a doubt
That I am true as Truth: since you give not,
Unto my briefest look—my gayest word—
My faintest change of cheek—my softest touch—
Most sportive, careless smile, or low-breathed sigh—
Nay, to my voice's lightest modulation,
Though imperceptible to all but you:—
If you give not to these, unquestioning,
A limitless faith—the faith you give to Heaven—
I will not call you “friend.” I would disdain
A seraph's heart, as yours I now renounce,
If such the terms on which 'twere proffer'd me.
Since you dare breathe the shadow of a doubt
That I am true as Truth: since you give not,
Unto my briefest look—my gayest word—
My faintest change of cheek—my softest touch—
Most sportive, careless smile, or low-breathed sigh—
Nay, to my voice's lightest modulation,
Though imperceptible to all but you:—
If you give not to these, unquestioning,
A limitless faith—the faith you give to Heaven—
I will not call you “friend.” I would disdain
A seraph's heart, as yours I now renounce,
If such the terms on which 'twere proffer'd me.
Deny me Faith—that poor, yet priceless boon—
And you deny the very soul of love!
As well withhold the lamp, whose light reveals
The sculptured beauty latent in its urn,
As proffer Friendship's diamond in the dark.
And you deny the very soul of love!
As well withhold the lamp, whose light reveals
The sculptured beauty latent in its urn,
As proffer Friendship's diamond in the dark.
What though a thousand seeming proofs condemn me?
If my calm image smile not clear through all,
Serene and without shadow on your heart—
Nay! if the very vapours, that would veil it,
Part not illumined by its presence pure,
As round Night's tranquil queen the clouds divide,
Then rend it from that heart! I ask no place,
Though 'twere a throne, without the state becomes me—
Without the homage due to royal Truth!
48
Serene and without shadow on your heart—
Nay! if the very vapours, that would veil it,
Part not illumined by its presence pure,
As round Night's tranquil queen the clouds divide,
Then rend it from that heart! I ask no place,
Though 'twere a throne, without the state becomes me—
Without the homage due to royal Truth!
And should a world beside pronounce me false,
You are to choose between the world and me.
If I be not more than all worlds to you,
I will not stoop to less! I will have all—
Your proudest, purest, noblest, loftiest love—
Your perfect trust—your soul of soul—or nothing!
You are to choose between the world and me.
If I be not more than all worlds to you,
I will not stoop to less! I will have all—
Your proudest, purest, noblest, loftiest love—
Your perfect trust—your soul of soul—or nothing!
Shall I not have them? Speak! on poorer spirits—
Who are content with less, because forsooth
The whole would blind or blight them, or because
They have but less to give—will you divide
The glory of your own? or concentrate
On mine its radiant life?—on mine! that holds
As yet, in calm reserve, the boundless wealth
Of tenderness its Maker taught to it.
Speak! shall we part, and go our separate ways,
Each with a half life in a burning soul,
Like two wild clouds, whose meeting would evoke
The electric flame pent up within their bosoms,
That, parted, weep their fiery hearts away,
Or waste afar—and darken into death?
Speak! do we part? or are we one for ever?
Who are content with less, because forsooth
The whole would blind or blight them, or because
They have but less to give—will you divide
The glory of your own? or concentrate
On mine its radiant life?—on mine! that holds
As yet, in calm reserve, the boundless wealth
Of tenderness its Maker taught to it.
Speak! shall we part, and go our separate ways,
Each with a half life in a burning soul,
Like two wild clouds, whose meeting would evoke
The electric flame pent up within their bosoms,
49
Or waste afar—and darken into death?
Speak! do we part? or are we one for ever?
| Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood | |