 | Poems |  |
ON A QUESTION PROPOSED
AT THE INSTITUTION OF THE ABBA SICARD, IN PARIS, “LES SOURDS-MUETS SE TROUVENT-ILS MALHERVREUX?”
Addressed to an interesting and intelligent little girl, deprived of the powers of speech and hearing.
Oh! could the kind inquirer gaze
Upon thy brow with gladness fraught,
Its smile, like inspiration's rays,
Would give the answer to his thought.—
Upon thy brow with gladness fraught,
Its smile, like inspiration's rays,
Would give the answer to his thought.—
And could he see thy sportive grace
Soft blending with submission due,—
Or note thy bosom's tenderness
To every just emotion true;—
Soft blending with submission due,—
Or note thy bosom's tenderness
To every just emotion true;—
Or when some new idea glows,
On the pure altar of the mind,
Observe the exulting tear that flows
In silent ecstacy refined;—
On the pure altar of the mind,
Observe the exulting tear that flows
In silent ecstacy refined;—
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Thy active life,—thy look of bliss,
The sparkling of thy magic eye,
Would all his sceptic doubts dismiss,
And bid him lay his pity by,
The sparkling of thy magic eye,
Would all his sceptic doubts dismiss,
And bid him lay his pity by,
To bless the ear that ne'er has known
The voice of censure, pride, or art;
Nor trembled at that sterner tone,
Which while it tortures, chills the heart;
The voice of censure, pride, or art;
Nor trembled at that sterner tone,
Which while it tortures, chills the heart;
To bless the lip that ne'er could tell
Of human woes the vast amount,
Nor pour those idle words that swell
The terror of our last account.—
Of human woes the vast amount,
Nor pour those idle words that swell
The terror of our last account.—
For sure the stream of silent course
May flow as deep, as pure, as blest,
As that which rolls in torrents hoarse,
Or whitens o'er the mountain's breast,
May flow as deep, as pure, as blest,
As that which rolls in torrents hoarse,
Or whitens o'er the mountain's breast,
As sweet a scene, as fair a shore,
As rich a soil its tide may lave,
Then joyful and accepted pour
Its tribute to the mighty wave.
As rich a soil its tide may lave,
Then joyful and accepted pour
Its tribute to the mighty wave.
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