Mrs. Elizabeth Oakes Smith (1806–1893)

A SIMPLE thing, yet chancing as it did,

When life was bright with its illusive dreams,

A pledge and promise seemed beneath it hid.

The ocean lay before me, tinged with beams

That lingering draped the west, a wavering stir;

And at my feet down fell a worn, gray quill:

An eagle, high above the darkling fir,

With steady flight, seemed there to take his fill

Of that pure ether breathed by him alone.

O noble bird! why didst thou loose for me

Thy eagle plume? still unessayed, unknown,

Must be that pathway fearless winged by thee:

I ask it not, no lofty flight be mine;

I would not soar like thee, in loneliness to pine!