Susan Marr Spalding
"Contributor to Magazines" (Sharp)
Read an article on Susan Marr Spalding in Catholic World (1892) (from the Humanities Text Initiative)
Let me not lay the lightest feather's weight
Of duty upon Love. Let not, my own,
The breath of one reluctant kiss be blown
Between our hearts. I would not be the gate
That bars, like some inexorable fate,
The portals of thy life; that says, "Alone
Through me shall any joy to thee be known;"
Rather the window, fragrant early and late
With thy sweet, clinging thoughts, that grow and twine
Around me, like some bright and blooming vine:
Through which the sun shall shed his wealth on thee
In golden showers; through which thou may'st look out
Exulting in all beauty, without doubt,
Or fear, or shadow of regret from me.
An Antique Intaglio
Great cities that defied Time's power are dust,
And mighty temples ruins; yet this gem,
Seeming a fragile thing, outliveth them.
Its beauty bears no trace of Time's keen thrust,
Undimmed the marvellous lustre that doth trust
To none its secret; every delicate line
Glows with immortal freshness and divine,
That fears no ravage of decay or rust.
How infinite is art! A magic glass
This tiny, chiselled disk becomes to me:
Greece and her glories rise and shine and pass
Before my dazzled eyes; then fade to wan
And spectral shores, where the Aegean Sea
Guards the lone ruins of the Parthenon.
(Text from American Sonnets)