| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 617. Voice |
| | | By Harriet Prescott Spofford |
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| SAID the archangels, moving in their glory, | |
| Seeing the suns bend out along their courses, | |
| Seeing the earth swim up in vernal light, | |
| Seeing the year renew her ancient story,— | |
| Ask we here the Lord of all the finer forces | 5 |
| To make us now a poet whose song shall reach our height! | |
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| Fain would we know the impulse ever fleeing, | |
| Fleeing in light o’er the battlements of even, | |
| Fleeing in love that lifts the universe like wings; | |
| Fain would we know the secret of our being, | 10 |
| Blush for a moment with the inmost joy of heaven— | |
| Make us then a poet whose song shall tell these things! | |
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| From his rosy cloud, a Voice,—O wonder! | |
| All my harp-strings tremble to sweet singing! | |
| Life, O lovely life, is at the flood! | 15 |
| Hear the torrents’ far melodious thunder, | |
| Hear the winds’ long sweep, the joyous thickets ringing, | |
| Forests bow and murmur, and blossoms burst their bud! | |
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| Israfel, the Voice, was warbling,—Follow | |
| Where the wild swift music winds and doubles! | 20 |
| Follow! When the sap whirls longing for the light, | |
| When the first thrush thrills the dusky hollow, | |
| Every heart on earth with jocund spirit bubbles, | |
| And every soul’s a poet whose song surmounts our height! | |
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