O high-born souls, such as God sends to mould...

By Anne Whitney

O high-born souls, such as God sends to mould
His ages in -- and you too, who have known
The pang of strife, and are at last at one
With nature so, -- yea, all who have made bold
Our timid dreams, and proffered to the hold
A certain joy -- come mingle in life's cope
Star-fields of verity and stable hope.
With these swift meteors and illusions old!
I sent this summons through the deeps of june,
When life surged up so warm and affluent,
It wrapt the very whiteness of the moon; --
No wonder many came -- they came and went --
And thou, who sleep'st half sad and wak'st with pain,
Thou camest too and dost alone remain.