We trust a new, compact, and cheap edition or selection, of Margaret Fuller’s writings will soon be given to the public, prefaced by a Memoir. It were a shame to us if one so radiantly lofty in intellect, so devoted to human liberty and well-being, so ready to dare and to endure for the upraising of her sex and her race, should perish from among us, and leave no memento less imperfect and casual than those we now have. We trust the more immediate relatives of our departed friend will lose no time in selecting the fittest person to prepare a Memoir, with a selection from her writings, for the press.[A] America has produced no woman who in mental endowments and acquirements has surpassed Margaret Fuller, and it will be a public misfortune if her thoughts are not promptly and acceptably embodied.
[Footnote A: The reader is aware that such a Memoir has since been published, and that several of her works have been republished likewise. I trust soon to publish a volume of Madame Ossoli’s Miscellaneous Writings.—ED.]
* * * * *
MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI
BY C.P. CRANCH.
O still, sweet summer days! O moonlight
After so drear a storm how can ye shine?
O smiling world of many-hued delights,
How canst thou ’round our sad hearts still entwine
The accustomed wreaths of pleasure? How, O Day,
Wakest thou so full of beauty? Twilight deep,
How diest thou so tranquilly away?
And how, O Night, bring’st thou the sphere of sleep?
For she is gone from us,—gone, lost for ever,—
In the wild billows swallowed up and lost,—
Gone, full of love, life, hope, and high endeavor,
Just when we would have welcomed her the most.