University of Virginia Library

IV.—CONTEMPLATION.

Calm contemplation is the end of Art—
Not to perturb her bosom at the sighs
Of each poor sufferer as the sufferer dies,
But to preserve a white unblemished heart.
The generations weary and depart,
But she, with equal and majestic eyes,
Her being to the omnipotent allies,
And wearieth not, as forth the young buds start.
At utter peace she sits; and all the years
Bring to her joys and sorrows for a crown—
Thorn-wreaths and roses, lilies and hot tears—
She marks them all; she watches with no frown,
Not smiling either, man's rage, woman's fears,
Blood, torture, terror, flames of many a town.