The Poems of Emma Lazarus, Volume 1

SYMPATHY.

     Therefore I dare reveal my private woe,
     The secret blots of my imperfect heart,
     Nor strive to shrink or swell mine own desert,
     Nor beautify nor hide.  For this I know,
     That even as I am, thou also art.
     Thou past heroic forms unmoved shalt go,
     To pause and bide with me, to whisper low:
     "Not I alone am weak, not I apart
     Must suffer, struggle, conquer day by day.
     Here is my very cross by strangers borne,
     Here is my bosom-sun wherefrom I pray
     Hourly deliverance—this my rose, my thorn.
     This woman my soul's need can understand,
     Stretching o'er silent gulfs her sister hand."