Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.
By ElizabethStoddard423 The Poets Secret
T
If that will calm my restless mind.
I hail the seasons as they go,
I woo the sunshine, brave the wind.
I nod to every nodding tree,
I follow every stream that flows,
And wait beside the steadfast sea.
I touch the lips of women fair:
Their lips and eyes may make me wise,
But what I seek for is not there.
In vain the world through space may roll;
I never see the mystic light
Which fills the poet’s happy soul.
Whose meaning into song must turn;
Revealing all he longs to know,
The secret each alone must learn.