Outwearied with the littleness and spite,
The falsehood and the treachery of men,
I cried, "Give me but justice!" thinking then
I meekly craved a common boon which might
Most easily be granted; soon the light
Of deeper truth grew on my wondering ken,
(Escaping baneful damps of stagnant fen),
And then I saw that in my pride bedight
I claimed from erring man the gift of Heaven--
God's own great vested right; and I grew calm,
With folded hands, like stone, to patience given,
And pitying, of pure love distilling balm;
And now I wait in quiet trust to be
All known to God--and ask of men sweet charity.
--Elizabeth Oakes Smith.