Poem by Alice Hunt Bartlett

Service

To live, forsworn, upon some starry height
Of Genius and no other guidance take,
Or leaving a neglectful world, forsake
More comfortable ways of men for Right;
Through thoughtful hours, discovering the might
Of that small voice, within, which bids man shake
His sleeping spirit, ’til at last awake
He dwells no more, content, outside its light.

When Pleasure’s voices call, to heed them not;
When Leisure beckons, turn unmindful eyes,
Like children, after punishment, grown wise,
Declining the poor gifts that they allot;
Blest are the many whom nothing can swerve,
The men and the women ready to serve!

1. Illusion
2. Greater Beauty
3. Reactionary
4. Revisited
5. Usque ad Aras

Trumbull Stickney Service ("Chide me not, darling, that I sing")

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