To E.B.C.

                         I.
Friend of the friendless! true as tempered steel!
     And just as keen when some outrageous wrong
     In wealth of fraud, or pulpit-fortress, strong,
Sets on the poor of God its mailed heel,—
But quick with all a mother’s heart to feel
     For the scarred outcast,—souls devoted long
     To pain and loss;—I see around thee throng
All bleeding bosoms for thy touch to heal!
Pale Sorrow comes for soothing, Hunger waits 
     Her daily bread, and Penitence to renew
Her virtuous strength. The stranger in Thy gates
     May find home-welcome, and the noblest Few,—
Truth’s chosen champions, eager for the fray,
An Ally clear and constant as the day!

                         II.
Thy earnest soul hath natural eloquence,
     Not the lithe posturing of consummate art, 
     But simple movements of an honest heart
That withers vice, and folly, and pretence,
With upright truth, and downright common sense!
     The timid soul might shiver, the bigot start,
     At thy tongue’s bluntness, but the True depart
Blessing the love that is their firm defence,
Among thy gods, the gallant, strong and free,
     Beauty stands eminent in her regal niche,
And household Love with children round her knee
     Sits by her lamp, and sheds a beam more rich;
Though now an armed Apostle, battling Ill,
A Woman, Mother, Friend, and Sister still.