Whether man's thought can find too lofty steeps For woman's scaling, care not I to know: But when he falters by her side, or creeps, She must not clog her soul with him to go. Who weds me must at least with equal pace Sometimes move with me at my being's height: To follow him to his more glorious place, His purer atmosphere, were keen delight. You lure me to the valley: men should call Up to the mountains, where the air is clear. Win me and help me climbing, if at all! Beyond these peaks rich harmonies I hear, HEROIC. You got in the River-Wars? That were leeched with clamorous skill, (Surgery savage and hard,) Our lofty spars were down, As we floated up the bay- We were eighteen ships that day. In that great iron coffin, The channel for their grave, The fort their monument, (Seen afar in the offing,) Ten fathom deep lie Craven And the bravest of our brave. |