 It is the last of her compositions, and perhaps the best.It is included in most of the anthologies published in the United States in the 19th-century.I SAID to Sorrow’s awful storm, 
Rage on—thou may’st destroy this form, 
But still the spirit that now brooks
Undaunted on its fury looks 

I said to Penury’s meagre train, 
My last poor life-drop you may drain, 
Yet still the spirit that endures 
And meet each cold, cold grasp of yours

I said to cold Neglect and Scorn, 
Ye may pursue me till my form 
Yet still the spirit, which you see 
Draws from its own nobility 

I said to Friendship’s menaced blow,
Thou canst but add one bitter woe 
Yet still the spirit that sustains 
Shall smile upon its keenest pains, 

I said to Death’s uplifted dart, 
Thou wilt not find a fearful heart—
For still the spirit, firm and free, 
Wrapt in its own eternity,