Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/61

Rh What was He?—From thy brow the roses fled At that eternal question, fathomless and dread.—

Yet childhood's bliss was in thine eye, And over thy features gay would rove That eloquent sensibility Which wakens love. A mother's fond caress, A sister's tenderness, Bade through thy breast full tides of pleasure run; A father's prayer would bless His dear and voiceless one,— Yet pensive bending o'er thy sleeping bed For thee, their mingled tears in sympathy were shed.

Oh! snatch'd from ignorance and pain, And taught with seraph eye At yon unmeasured orbs to gaze, And trace amid their quenchless blaze Thy own high destiny; Forever bless the hands that burst thy chain, And led thy doubtful steps to Learning's hallow'd fane.

Though from thy guarded portal press No word of gratitude or tenderness, In the starting tear,—the glowing cheek With tuneful tongue the soul can speak, Her tone is in the sigh, Her language in the eye, Her voice of harmony, a life of praise, Well understood by Him who notes our secret ways.