| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 53. The Soul’s Defiance |
| | | By Lavinia Stoddard |
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| I SAID to Sorrow’s awful storm, | |
| That beat against my breast, | |
| Rage on—thou may’st destroy this form, | |
| And lay it low at rest; | |
| But still the spirit that now brooks | 5 |
| Thy tempest, raging high, | |
| Undaunted on its fury looks | |
| With steadfast eye. | |
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| I said to Penury’s meagre train, | |
| Come on—your threats I brave; | 10 |
| My last poor life-drop you may drain, | |
| And crush me to the grave; | |
| Yet still the spirit that endures | |
| Shall mock your force the while, | |
| And meet each cold, cold grasp of yours | 15 |
| With bitter smile. | |
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| I said to cold Neglect and Scorn, | |
| Pass on—I heed you not; | |
| Ye may pursue me till my form | |
| And being are forgot; | 20 |
| Yet still the spirit, which you see | |
| Undaunted by your wiles, | |
| Draws from its own nobility | |
| Its high-born smiles. | |
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| I said to Friendship’s menaced blow, | 25 |
| Strike deep—my heart shall bear; | |
| Thou canst but add one bitter woe | |
| To those already there; | |
| Yet still the spirit that sustains | |
| This last severe distress | 30 |
| Shall smile upon its keenest pains, | |
| And scorn redress. | |
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| I said to Death’s uplifted dart, | |
| Aim sure—oh, why delay? | |
| Thou wilt not find a fearful heart— | 35 |
| A weak, reluctant prey; | |
| For still the spirit, firm and free, | |
| Unruffled by this last dismay, | |
| Wrapt in its own eternity, | |
| Shall pass away. | 40 |
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