 | Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood |  |
108
TO S. S. OSGOOD.
SUGGESTED BY AN UNFINISHED PICTURE.
Forgive my weaker spirit, if it sighTo see thee—careless of what others call
Renown—toil on with rapt, thrill'd heart and eye,
Thy very life to thy loved task in thrall!—
I sigh, while calmly silent thou dost smile,
Kindling the canvas with thy soul the while!
Yet oh! believe the sigh is worthy thee:
It is not breathed because thou bend'st no knee
For praise or gold;—because thy pride would shame
To bribe the hireling critic's supple pen,
That moves obedient to its master's chains;
Because thy soul, serene in power, disdains
The common meed that genius earns of men.
No—the lone eagle sunward soars for glory,
Above the rainbow's evanescent story;
And thou, my gifted one! I know thy name
The great and true shall keep. Thou shalt not stoop to Fame!
| Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood | |