Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867.
II. To M. W., on Her BirthdayJames Russell Lowell (18191891)
M
The morning stars their ancient music make,
And, joyful, once again their song awake,
Long silent now with melancholy scorn;
And thou, not mindless of so blest a morn,
By no least deed its harmony shalt break,
But shalt to that high chime thy footsteps take,
Through life’s most darksome passes unforlorn:
Therefore from thy pure faith thou shalt not fall,
Therefore shalt thou be ever fair and free,
And in thine every motion musical
As summer-air, majestic as the sea,
A mystery to those who creep and crawl
Through Time, and part it from Eternity!