Weekly standard. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1858-1865, 1863-05-27
The Dumb Child.

The following Stanzas, though published long ago,
will never grow old, There is the soul of poetryin
them which is immortal
She ismy only girl:
lasked for her as some most precious thing,
For all unfinished was loves jewelled ring
Till this sof: pearl;
The shade that time brought forth, I.could not see,
How frail, how perfect, seemed the gift to mel
Oh! many soft old tune
I used to sing upto that deadened ear,
And suffered not the lghtest footstep near.
Lest she might wake too soon;
And hushed her brothers laughter while she lay;
All ! needless care might have let them playi
Twas long, e'er believed
That this one daughter might not speak to me:
Waited and watched, God knows how patiently;
How Willingly deceived:
Vain love was long the untiring nurse of faith,
And tended hope until it starved to death.
OIL if she could but hear
For one short hour, till l her tongue might teach
To call me mother, in the broken speech
That thrills the mothers earl
Alas those sealed lips may neer be stirred
To the deep music of that lovely word.
My heart is sorely tried.
To see her kneel, with such reverent air
Beside her brothers, at their evening prayer.
Or lift those earnest eyes
To watch our lips, as tho our words she knew;
Then move her own, as she were speaking too:
I've watched her looking up
To the bright wonder of a sunset SKY,
With such depth of meaning in her eye,
That could almost hope =.
The struggling soul would burst its binding cords
And the long pentup thoughts flow forth in words
The song Of bird and bee,
The chorus of the breezes streams, and groves,
All the grand music, to which Nature moves,
Are wasted melody
TO her; the world Of sound tuneless void,
While even silence hath its charm destroyed.
.. Her face is very .fairl @ -
Her blue eyes beautiful! of finest mold.
/ The soft white brow, DER whichin waves of gold
Ripples her shining hair
Alas! this lovely temple closed must be,
For He who made it, keeps the master key.
Wills He the mind within
Should from earth's Babel-clamor be kept free.
Fen that His still small voice aud Step nigh. be
Heard at its inner shrine,
Through that deep hush of SOUL with clearer thrilli
Then should grieve? o murmuring heart be still
She seems to have sense
Ofquiet gladness in her noiseless play;
She hath pleasant smile-a gentle way
Whose yoiceless eloquence
Touches all hearts though had once the tear
That cen her father would not care for her.
Thank God. it is not sol
And when his sons are playing merrily,
She comes and leans her head upon his knee
Oh! at such times, l know
By his full eye, and tones subdued and mild
How his heart yearns towards bis silent child.
Not of all gifts bere1tl
Fen now, how could say she did not speaks
What real language lights her eye and cheeL,
And renders thanks to Him who lett
Unto her soul, yet open avenues
For joy to enter, and for love to use.
And God in love Goth give
To her defect beauty Of its own,
And we deeper tenderness have known
Through that for which we grieye.
Yet shall the seal be melted from her earl
Yes, apd my voice shall fill it, but-"not here"
When that new sense is given,
What rapture will its first experience be,
That never woke to meaner melody
Than the rich songs Of heayeni
To hear the full-toned anthem swelling round,
While angels teach the ecstacies Of soundl~