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298  SARAH LOUISA P. SMITH.

of Newton, near Boston; which had long been the home of her motner s [[mother's]] ancestors.  She began to compose when a very little child; and by the time she was fifteen, her uncommon talents had made her an object of attention to a large circle.  At sixteen she was married to Mr. S. J Smith, of Providence, R. I., who published a Volume of Poems from her pen, soon after their marriage.

There is a delicacy and purity of thought, a cheerful buoyancy of feeling about her productions, which make them both pleasing and useful; and as Mrs. Smith was remarkably sensible of her own deficiencies, and earnest in self-discipline, there is every reason to suppose that she would have attained great excellence, had she not been so early called away.  The genius of this young poetess, however, was not her greatest charm.  The qualities of her heart were superior to those of her head; and bright as the shining intellect was, the lustre of her love and truth and purity far outshone it.  It has been said by one who knew her well, "Any literary distinction she might have gained could never have been thought of in her presence; it was the confiding sincerity of her manners, the playfulness of her conversation, her enthusiastic and devoted assiduity to those she loved, which made her presence a perpetual delight."  Her personal appearance, also, was one of great loveliness; and when we are assured that to beauty, genius, and amiability, there was added the most ardent and unaffected piety, we may well believe that she was fitted while on earth for singing among the seraphs in heaven.

THE HUMA.*  [[footnote 1]]

FLY on! nor touch thy wing, bright bird,
Too near our shaded earth,
Or the warbling, now so sweetly heard,
May lose its note of mirth.
Fly on—nor seek a place of rest
In the home of "care-worn things;"
'T would dim the light of thy shining crest
And thy brightly burnish'd wings,

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[[footnote 1]] * A bird peculiar to the East.  It is supposed to fly constantly in the air, and never touch the ground. [[/footnote 1]]


SARAH LOUISA P. SMITH.  299

To dip them where the waters glide
That flow from a troubled earthly tide.

The fields of upper air are thine,
Thy place where stars shine free:
I would thy home, bright one, were mine,
Above life's stormy sea.
I would never wander, bird, like thee,
So near this place again,
With wing and spirit once light and free—
They should wear no more the chain
With which they are bound and fetter'd here,
For ever struggling for skies more clear.

There are many things like thee, bright bird,
Hopes as thy plumage gay;
Our air is with them for ever stirr'd,
But still in the air they stay.
And happiness, like thee, fair one,
Is ever hovering o'er,
But rests in a land of brighter sun,
On a waveless, peaceful shore,
And stoops to lave her weary wings,
Where the fount of "living waters" springs.

I WOULD NEVER KNEEL.

I WOULD never kneel at a gilded shrine,
To worship the idol gold;
I would never fetter this heart of mine,
As a thing for fortune sold.

There are haughty steps that would walk the globe
O'er necks of humbler ones;
I would scorn to bow to their jewell'd robe,
Or the beam of their coin-lit suns.

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