Mrs. Elizabeth Oakes Smith (1806–1893)

WITH no fond, sickly thirst for fame I kneel,

O goddess of the high-born art, to thee;

Not unto thee with semblance of a zeal

I come, O pure and heaven-eyed Poesy!

Thou art to me a spirit and a love,

Felt ever from the time when first the earth

In its green beauty, and the sky above,

Informed my soul with joy too deep for mirth.

I was a child of thine before my tongue

Could lisp its infant utterance unto thee;

And now, albeit from my harp are flung

Discordant numbers, and the song may be

That which I would not, yet I know that thou

The offering wilt not spurn, while thus to thee I bow.