Stedman and Hutchinson, comps. A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes. 1891.
Vols. IX–XI: Literature of the Republic, Part IV., 1861–1889
In the Dark
By Frances Louisa BushnellR
And finding every place too strait,
I leave the porch shut in with trees,
And wander through the garden-gate.
My way before me with my hands;
But soul-like fragrances reveal
My virgin Daphne, where she stands.
Her worship to the stars above;
In wavering pulsations soft,
Climbs the sweet incense of her love;
Their glances down through leafy bars;
The spark that burns within her heart
Was dropped, in answer, from the stars.
The night too dark, for sweetest bloom;
Content within the garden wall,
Since upward there is always room.
Holds safe its little vestal spark.
O blessed, if the soul be white,
To breathe and blossom in the dark!