Verse > Anthologies > Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. > An American Anthology, 1787–1900
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Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908).  An American Anthology, 1787–1900.  1900.
 
870. The Pyxidanthera
 
By Augusta Cooper Bristol
 
 
SWEET child of April, I have found thy place
Of deep retirement. Where the low swamp ferns
Curl upward from their sheaths, and lichens creep
Upon the fallen branch, and mosses dark
Deepen and brighten, where the ardent sun        5
Doth enter with restrained and chastened beam,
And the light cadence of the blue-bird’s song
Doth falter in the cedar,—there the Spring
In gratitude hath wrought the sweet surprise
And marvel of thy unobtrusive bloom.        10
 
Most perfect symbol of my purest thought,—
A thought so close and warm within my heart
No words can shape its secret, and no prayer
Can breathe its sacredness—be thou my type,
And breathe to one, who wanders here at dawn,        15
The deep devotion, which, transcending speech,
Lights all the folded silence of my heart
As thy sweet beauty doth the shadow here.
 
So let thy clusters brighten, star on star
Of pink and white about his lingering feet,        20
Till, dreaming and enchanted, there shall pass
Into his life the story that my soul
Hath given thee. So shall his will be stirred
To purest purpose and divinest deed,
And every hour be touched with grace and light.        25
 

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