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!