Poetry Archives

’Twas not rare versatility,
  Nor gift of poesy or art,
Nor piquant, sparkling jeux d’esprit
    Which at the call of fancy come,
  That touched the universal heart,
    And won the world’s encomium.

It was not beauty’s potent charm;
  For admiration followed her
Unmindful of the rounded arm,
    The fair complexion’s brilliancy,
  If form and features shapely were
    Or lacked the grace of symmetry.

So not by marked, especial power
  She grew endeared to human thought,
But just because, in trial’s hour,
    Was loving service to be done
  Or sympathy and counsel sought,
    She made herself the needed one.

  Oh, great the blessedness must be
      Of heart and hand and brain alert
  In projects wise and manifold,
      Impending sorrow to avert
That duller natures fail to see,
  Or stand aloof severe and cold!

And who shall doubt that this is why
  In womanhood’s florescent prime
She passed the portals of the sky?
    As if a life thus truly given
  To purpose pure and act sublime
    Were needed also up in Heaven.