  AS though Priscilla had smoothed out the frown She had for all things that were worldly-wise— As though she stood again ’neath softer skies Than on the bleak New England rocks looked down, And all the sorrows of that time could drown,— Thus comes one, unaustere, with kindly eyes, Stepping from out the past’s dim tapestries, A Puritan with purity her crown. Yet, not the shy reserve that marks her ways Nor lines of strength denoted in her face O’er which the sweetest light ’neath heaven plays, Compel our love, but traces of the race That passes down its grandeur to our days, Seeking the good and spurning all things base! |
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