Page:Poems Sigourney, 1834.pdf/199

198 And all those charms that beauty sheds O'er human form and face divine.

While they, to whom the orb of day Is quenched in "ever-during dark," Adored that intellectual ray Which writes the Sun a glow-worm spark, And in that blest communion joyed Which thought to thought doth deftly bind, And bid the tireless tongue exchange The never-wasted wealth of mind.

And closer to their souls they bound The bliss of Music's raptured thrill, That "linked melody" of sound That gives to man a seraph's skill, So they on whose young brows had turned, The warmth of Pity's tearful gaze, Each in his broken censer burned The incense of exulting praise.

Yes, they whom kind Compassion deemed Scantly with Nature's gifts endued, Poured freshest from their bosom's fount The gushing tide of gratitude, And with that tide a moral flowed, A deep reproof to those who share Of sight, and sound, and speech the bliss, Yet coldly thank the Giver's care.