Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

George Willis Cooke, comp. The Poets of Transcendentalism: An Anthology. 1903.

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Augusta Cooper Bristol (1835–1910)

I WANDERED with an earnest heart

Among the quarried depths of Thought,

And kindled by the poet’s art,

I deftly wrought.

I wrought for Beauty; and the world

Grew very green and smooth for me,

And blossom-banners hung unfurled

On every tree.

Upon my heated forehead lay

The cooling laurel, and my feet

Crushed honeyed fragrance out, the way

Had grown so sweet.

And praise was servant of the ear,

And love dropped kisses on the cheek,

And smiled a passion-thought too dear

For tongue to speak.

But one day the ideal Good

Baptized me with immortal youth;

And in sublimity of mood

I wrought for Truth.

Oh then, instead of laurel crown

The world entwined a thorny band,

And on my forehead pressed it down

With heavy hand.

And looks that used to warm me, froze;

I lost the cheer, the odor sweet,

The path of velvet; glaciers rose

Before my feet.

Yet Truth the more divinely shone,

As onward still I sought to press,

And gloriously proved her own

Almightiness.

For girded in her cuirass strong,

And lifted by her matchless arm,

Above the frozen peak of Wrong,

In warmth and calm,

I sit, and white thoughts, lily pure,

Like angels, close my heart around,

And fold me gently in, secure

From cold or wound.

O kindred poet-soul, whose lays

Of sweet word-music set in line

Are fashioned for the world’s poor praise

And Beauty’s shrine,—

The martyr’s spirit-wing is strong!

Choose thou a pinion that can rise

With Truth’s full freight of clarion-song

And sweep the skies!

Then shall the thoughts that in thee burn,

Flame-reaching, touch the thought divine;

And man may scoff, a world may spurn,

But Heaven is thine.