George Willis Cooke, comp. The Poets of Transcendentalism: An Anthology. 1903.
Art-ServiceAugusta Cooper Bristol (18351910)
I
Among the quarried depths of Thought,
And kindled by the poet’s art,
I deftly wrought.
Grew very green and smooth for me,
And blossom-banners hung unfurled
On every tree.
The cooling laurel, and my feet
Crushed honeyed fragrance out, the way
Had grown so sweet.
And love dropped kisses on the cheek,
And smiled a passion-thought too dear
For tongue to speak.
Baptized me with immortal youth;
And in sublimity of mood
I wrought for Truth.
The world entwined a thorny band,
And on my forehead pressed it down
With heavy hand.
I lost the cheer, the odor sweet,
The path of velvet; glaciers rose
Before my feet.
As onward still I sought to press,
And gloriously proved her own
Almightiness.
And lifted by her matchless arm,
Above the frozen peak of Wrong,
In warmth and calm,
Like angels, close my heart around,
And fold me gently in, secure
From cold or wound.
Of sweet word-music set in line
Are fashioned for the world’s poor praise
And Beauty’s shrine,—
Choose thou a pinion that can rise
With Truth’s full freight of clarion-song
And sweep the skies!
Flame-reaching, touch the thought divine;
And man may scoff, a world may spurn,
But Heaven is thine.