To Miss Charlotte Cushman
O what a perilous waste from low to high,
Must this poor book from me to you o'er leap, —
From me, who wander in the nights that lie
About Fame's utmost vague foundations deep,
To you, that sit on Fame's most absolute height,
Distinctly starred, e'en in that awful light!
Must this poor book from me to you o'er leap, —
From me, who wander in the nights that lie
About Fame's utmost vague foundations deep,
To you, that sit on Fame's most absolute height,
Distinctly starred, e'en in that awful light!
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