To S. S. Osgood

Forgive my weaker spirit, if it sigh To see thee—careless of what others call Renown—toil on with rapt, thrill'd heart and eye, Thy very life to thy loved task in thrall!— I sigh, while calmly silent thou dost smile, Kindling the canvas with thy soul the while! Yet oh! believe the sigh is worthy thee: It is not breathed because thou bend'st no knee For praise or gold;—because thy pride would shame To bribe the hireling critic's supple pen, That moves obedient to its master's chains; Because thy soul, serene in power, disdains The common meed that genius earns of men. No—the lone eagle sunward soars for glory, Above the rainbow's evanescent story; And thou, my gifted one! I know thy name The great and true shall keep. Thou shalt not stoop to Fame!