Alice Cary

April 26, 1820 - 1871


To The Spirit Of Gladness

by Alice Cary

Underneath a dreary sky,
Spirit glad and free,
Voyaging solemnly am I
Toward an unknown sea.
Falls the moonlight, sings the breeze,
But thou speakest not in these.

In the summers overflown
What delights we had!
Now I sit all day alone,
Weaving ditties sad;
But thou comest not for the sake
Of the lonesome rhymes I make.

Faithless spirit, spirit free,
Where mayst thou be found?
Where the meadow fountains be
Raining music round,
And the thistle burs so blue
Shine the livelong day with dew.

Keep thee, in thy pleasant bowers,
From my heart and brain;
Even the summer's lap of flowers
Could not cool the pain;
And for pallid cheek and brow
What companionship hast thou?

Erewhile, when the rainy spring
Filled the pastures full
Of sweet daisies blossoming
Out as white as wool;
We have gathered them, and made
Beds of Beauty in the shade.

Would that I had any friend
Lovingly to go
To the hollows where they blend
With the grasses low,
And a pillow soft and white
Make for the approaching night.


Copyright 1855
Boston: Ticknor And Fields