To The Spirit

By Anne Whitney

By a prodigal's favorite.

Thou teachest better things unto my heart,
Than with my mouth I sing. I would fain be
The Memnon of the sunrise that I see:
I would the uprising flame would dart
Forth from my lips in living melody.
Or might I mock that inward hymn --! In vain;
Like the poor bird that seeks so passionately
To breathe its rival's more melodious strain,
I beat my wings for nought. And yet, O soul,
Life, love and nature, better thus to live
With you in close embrace, as whole in whole,
Than to give happily with less to give;
I drink continually the nectar up,
Yet never see the bottom of the cup.