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 | Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood |  |
I would be judged by that great heart of thine,
Wherein a voice more genuine, more divine
Than world-taught Reason, fondly speaks for me,
And bids thee love and trust, through cloud and shine,
The frail and fragile creature who would be
Naught here—hereafter—if not all to thee!
Thou call'st me changeful as the summer cloud,
And wayward as a wave, and light as air.
And I am all thou sayst—all, and more;
But the wild cloud can weep, as well as lighten,
And the wave mirrors heaven, as my soul thee;
And the light air, that frolics without thought
O'er yonder harp, makes music as it goes.
Let me play on the soul-harp I love best,
And teach it all its dreaming melody—
That is my mission—I have nothing else,
In all the world, to do; and I shall go
Musicless, aimless, idle, through all life,
Unless I play my part there—only there.
In the full anthem which the universe
Intones to heaven, my heart will have no share,
Unless I have that soul-harp to myself,
And wake it to what melody I please.
Wherein a voice more genuine, more divine
Than world-taught Reason, fondly speaks for me,
And bids thee love and trust, through cloud and shine,
The frail and fragile creature who would be
Naught here—hereafter—if not all to thee!
Thou call'st me changeful as the summer cloud,
53
And I am all thou sayst—all, and more;
But the wild cloud can weep, as well as lighten,
And the wave mirrors heaven, as my soul thee;
And the light air, that frolics without thought
O'er yonder harp, makes music as it goes.
Let me play on the soul-harp I love best,
And teach it all its dreaming melody—
That is my mission—I have nothing else,
In all the world, to do; and I shall go
Musicless, aimless, idle, through all life,
Unless I play my part there—only there.
In the full anthem which the universe
Intones to heaven, my heart will have no share,
Unless I have that soul-harp to myself,
And wake it to what melody I please.
| Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood | |