| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 626. Were but My Spirit Loosed upon the Air |
| | | By Louise Chandler Moulton |
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| WERE but my spirit loosed upon the air,— | |
| By some High Power who could Life’s chains unbind, | |
| Set free to seek what most it longs to find,— | |
| To no proud Court of Kings would I repair: | |
| I would but climb, once more, a narrow stair, | 5 |
| When day was wearing late, and dusk was kind; | |
| And one should greet me to my failings blind, | |
| Content so I but shared his twilight there. | |
| Nay! well I know he waits not as of old,— | |
| I could not find him in the old-time place,— | 10 |
| I must pursue him, made by sorrow bold, | |
| Through worlds unknown, in strange Celestial race, | |
| Whose mystic round no traveller has told, | |
| From star to star, until I see his face. | |
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