Gray strength of years! Know you the land? Three against one! I dreamed an angel,
Angel twice, a stately dream. Largess from seven-fold heavens, descend on all who
toil for Beauty! O Fair mistrust of earth’s more solid shows! No slight caprice rules
thee – and for that, thou art Beauty, and thy name transcends all praise. Along yon
soft tumultuousness, the Dawn reaches a glowing hand, and the mute world thrills
back to life. You are welcome, world, to censure and carp: sing and croak yourselves
hoarse if you will. Seem I beyond thy reach of eye or lip, mailed in the arrogance of
life? How darkly in the far silence of my pitiless prison-walls, through night-watches
I sit. Oh wondrous delight of a window a fair three stories high, its limitless boon of
sky! A wink, pale pink — so stars come, one by one. Such is Nature’s constant way.
Whitney, Anne. Poems. New York: D. Appleton & Company, 1859. https://archive.org/details/cu31924022226702/page/n6/mode/1up