Achsa White Sprague

Nov. 17, 1827 - Jul. 6, 1862

 

Only For One

by Achsa White Sprague

Suggested by the remark of a friend.

At times my soul beneath the power
Of some strange spell is stirred,
As though an Angel sang to me,
And I that song had heard;
As though some power within my soul
Burst forth like morning sun,
And thrilled to music every chord --
I only sing for one.

And sometimes, when my spirit-lyre
Is swept in every string,
And glows with inspiration's fire,
As touched by angel's wing,
I fain would paint in glowing verse,
As others oft have done,
And give expression to my thought,
Yet only write for one.

I gaze far down the aisles of life,
As in some chapel dim,
And note the pilgrim's morning prayer,
Or list his evening hymn;
And whether in the morning hour,
Or when the day is done,
I watch the passers come and go,
Yet only look for one.

Yet through that one, as through a glass,
The world I seem to see,
And like an image stands that one
Of all the world to me;
And through that inspiration given,
As through some morning sun,
I sing, and write, and act for all,
Best when it seems for one.

An early poem, composed during sickness.

Source:

The Poet And Other Poems.
Copyright 1864
Boston: William White And Co.,
158 Washington Street.
 
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