| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 31. Rosalie |
| | | By Washington Allston |
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| “O POUR upon my soul again | |
| That sad, unearthly strain, | |
| That seems from other worlds to plain; | |
| Thus falling, falling from afar, | |
| As if some melancholy star | 5 |
| Had mingled with her light her sighs, | |
| And dropped them from the skies! | |
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| “No,—never came from aught below | |
| This melody of woe, | |
| That makes my heart to overflow, | 10 |
| As from a thousand gushing springs | |
| Unknown before; that with it brings | |
| This nameless light,—if light it be,— | |
| That veils the world I see. | |
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| “For all I see around me wears | 15 |
| The hue of other spheres; | |
| And something blent of smiles and tears | |
| Comes from the very air I breathe. | |
| O, nothing, sure, the stars beneath | |
| Can mould a sadness like to this,— | 20 |
| So like angelic bliss.” | |
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| So, at that dreamy hour of day, | |
| When the last lingering ray | |
| Stops on the highest cloud to play,— | |
| So thought the gentle Rosalie, | 25 |
| As on her maiden reverie | |
| First fell the strain of him who stole | |
| In music to her soul. | |
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