  'Twas not rare versatility, Nor gift of poesy or art, Nor piquant, sparkling jeux d'esprit Which at the call of fancy come, That touched the universal heart, And won the world's encomium. For admiration followed her Unmindful of the rounded arm, The fair complexion's brilliancy, If form and features shapely were Or lacked the grace of symmetry. So not by marked, especial power She grew endeared to human thought, But just because, in trial's hour, Was loving service to be done Or sympathy and counsel sought, She made herself the needed one. Oh, great the blessedness must be Of heart and hand and brain alert In projects wise and manifold, Impending sorrow to avert That duller natures fail to see, Or stand aloof severe and cold! And who shall doubt that this is why In womanhood's florescent prime She passed the portals of the sky? As if a life thus truly given To purpose pure and act sublime Were needed also up in Heaven. |
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