Margaret (Junkin) Preston (1820–1897)

TO every artist, howsoe’er his thought

Unfolds itself before the eyes of men,—

Whether through sculptor’s chisel, poet’s pen,

Or painter’s wondrous brush,—there comes, full fraught

With instant revelation, lightning-wrought,

A moment of supremest heart-swell, when

The mind leaps to the tidal crest, and then

Sweeps on triumphant to the harbor sought.

Wait, eager spirit, till the topping waves

Shall roll their gathering strength in one, and lift

From out the swamping trough thy galleon free;

Mount with the whirl, command the rush that raves

A maelstrom round; then proudly shoreward drift,

Rich-freighted as an Indian argosy.