  W WHAT was she most like? Was she like the wind, Fresh always, and untired; intent to find New fields to penetrate, new heights to gain; Scattering all mists with sudden, radiant wing; Stirring the languid pulses; quickening The apathetic mood, the weary brain? Or was she like the sun, whose gift of cheer Endureth for all seasons of the year, Alike in winter’s cold or summer’s heat? Or like the sea, which brings its gifts from far, And still, wherever want and straitness are, Lays down a sudden largess at their feet? Or was she like a wood, where light and shade, And sound and silence, mingle unafraid; Where mosses cluster, and, in coverts dark, Shy blossoms court the brief and wandering air, Mysteriously sweet; and here and there A firefly flashes like a sudden spark? Or like a wilful brook, which laughs and leaps All unexpectedly, and never keeps The course predicted, as it seaward flows? Or like a stream-fed river, brimming high? Or like a fruit, where those who love descry A pungent charm no other flavor knows? I cannot find her type. In her were blent Each varied and each fortunate element Which souls combine, with something all her own, Sadness and mirthfulness, a chorded strain, The tender heart, the keen and searching brain, The social zest, the power to live alone. Comrade of comrades, giving man the slip To seek in Nature truest comradeship; Tenacity and impulse ruled her fate, This grasping firmly what that flashed to feel,— The velvet scabbard and the sword of steel, The gift to strongly love, to frankly hate! Patience as strong as was her hopefulness; A joy in living which grew never less As years went on and age drew gravely nigh; Vision which pierced the veiling mists of pain, And saw beyond the mortal shadows plain The eternal day-dawn broadening in the sky. The love of Doing, and the scorn of Done; The playful fancy, which, like glinting sun, No chill could daunt, no loneliness could smother. Upon her ardent pulse Death’s chillness lies; Closed the brave lips, the merry, questioning eyes. She was herself!—there is not such another. |
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