University of Virginia Library

ASPIRATIONS.

O for the feelings which abide
Within the poet's mind,
That softly through his bosom glide
And leave strange joy behind!
O for a little of the power
Strong, piercing, pure and clear,
Which is his ever-potent dower,
To reach the cold world's ear!
O for a little of the fruit
Untinged with earthly leaven,
Not fame alone, nor vain repute,
But something caught from Heaven.

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Assurance that one's strain has cheered
Even though it be but one,
And shed on the dark path he feared
A little glimpse of sun.