by: James Russell Lowell
- OT as all
other women are
- Is she that to my soul is dear;
- Her glorious fancies come from far,
- Beneath the silver evening-star,
- And yet her heart is ever near.
- Great feelings hath she of her own,
- Which lesser souls may never know;
- God giveth them to her alone,
- And sweet they are as any tone
- Wherewith the wind may choose to blow.
- Yet in herself she dwelleth not,
- Although no home were half so fair;
- No simplest duty is forgot,
- Life hath no dim and lowly spot
- That doth not in her sunshine share.
- She doeth little kindnesses,
- Which most leave undone, or despise:
- For naught that sets one heart at ease,
- And giveth happiness or peace,
- Is low-esteemèd in her eyes.
- She hath no scorn of common things,
- And, though she seem of other birth,
- Round us her heart entwines and clings,
- And patiently she folds her wings
- To tread the humble paths of earth.
- Blessing she is: God made her so,
- And deeds of week-day holiness
- Fall from her noiseless as the snow,
- Nor hath she ever chanced to know
- That aught were easier than to bless.
- She is most fair, and thereunto
- Her life doth rightly harmonize;
- Feeling or thought that was not true
- Ne'er made less beautiful the blue
- Unclouded heaven of her eyes.
- She is a woman: one in whom
- The springtime of her childish years
- Hath never lost its fresh perfume,
- Though knowing well that life hath room
- For many blights and many tears.
- I love her with a love as still
- As a broad river's peaceful might,
- Which, by high tower and lowly mill,
- Seems following its own wayward will,
- And yet doth ever flow aright.
- And, on its full, deep breast serene,
- Like quiet isles my duties lie;
- It flows around them and between,
- And makes them fresh and fair and green,
- Sweet homes wherein to live and die.
MORE POEMS BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL
"My Love" is reprinted
from The Little Book of American Poets: 1787-1900. Ed.
Jessie B. Rittenhouse. Cambridge: Riverside Press, 1915.