THOU, Sibyl rapt! whose sympathetic soul <br />Infused the myst’ries thy tongue failed to tell; <br />Though from thy lips the marvellous accents fell, <br />And weird wise meanings o’er the senses stole, <br />Through those rare cadences, with winsome spell; <br />Yet even in such refrainings of thy voice <br />There struggled up a wailing undertone, <br />That spoke thee victim of the Sisters’ choice,— <br />Charming all others, dwelling still alone. <br />They left thee thus disconsolate to roam, <br />And scorned thy dear, devoted life to spare. <br />Around the storm-tost vessel sinking there <br />The wild waves chant thy dirge and welcome home; <br />Survives alone thy sex’s valiant plea, <br />And the great heart that loved the brave and free.<br /><br />Amos Bronson Alcott<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/margaret-fuller/
