Anne Charlotte Lynch Botta (11 Nov 1815 – 23 Mar 1891 | Bennington VT – New York NY) poet, critic, writer, teacher, socialite, literary circle figure, Barnard College co-founder, posthumous memoirist.

The flowers of romance that I cherished, around me lie withered and dead. There are countless

fields the green earth o’er. The planted seed consigned to common clay. Bury me by the sea,

when on my heart the hand of Death is press’d with a darkening ray of gloom. I know not if thou

e’er didst live, save in vivid thought. Hear reign, in silent majesty, the monarchs of the mind.

Nay, read it not, what lives within my heart. Once I dreamed I strayed within a snow-clad

mountain’s shade, whose far height bore one word: Excelsior! From thy scarred and prostrate

form, the spark of life had fled. Come on the sea, beloved, fearless and free. Why should we

weep for thee? Make thy guiding star that Blessed Book, through darkness and storm, a pathless

wilderness of waves to me. The noblest burden thou couldst bear is on thy waters now. Throw

open, once again, the portals of the tomb; and give, among the glorious dead, another hero room!

Botta, Anne C. Lynch. Poems. New York: G. P. Putnam, 1853. https://archive.org/details/poems00bott/page/51/mode/1up