Spirit of Jefferson. [volume] (Charles Town, Va. [W. Va.]) 1844-1948, 1869-12-07
POLITICAL.
THE DUMB CHILD.

She is my only girl;
ask for her as some most precious thing;
For all unfinished was loves jeweIed ring,
Till set with this soft pearl.
The shades that time brerght forth could not se
bow pure, how perfect, seemed the gift to me-
OH many soft old tune
used to sing unto that deadened ear,
And suffered not the slightest foots'ep near,
Lest she might wake too soon
And hushed her brothers. laughter while she lay;
Ah needless care! might have let them play.
Twas long ere believed
That this one daughter might not speak 10 u1ese
Waited and watehed-God knows how patiently =
How willingly deceived,
Vain Love was long the untiring nurse Of Faith,
And tended Hope until II starved to deathI
OH if she could but hear
For one short hour, till her tor gle might teach
To call me mother, in the broken speech
That thrills the mothers car!
Alas those scaled lips never may be stirred
To the deep music of that holy word!
My heart 1t sorely tries
To see her kneel with such a rcvcrcnt air,
Bcside her brothers at their evening prayer;
Or lift those earnest eyes
To watch our lips, as though eur words she knew,
Then move her own, as she were speaking too.
Pyc 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 pcnt up Thoughts flow forth in words
The song O fbird and bee.
The chorus of the breezcs, streams aud groves.
All the grand music TO which nature moves,
Are wasted melody:
To her; the world of sound a tuneless void;
While even silence hath it's charm destroyed
Her face is very fair;
Her blue eyes beautiful; of finest mould
The soft white brow, DER which, in 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 and step might be
Heard, at its inner shrine,
Through that deep hush of SOUL with clearer thrill?
Then should grieve? o, O,murmuring heart be still
She seems to have quiet sense
OF quiet gladness in her noiseless play.
She hath pleasant smile, gentle way
Whose voiCeless elOquence
Touches a II hearts, though had once the fear
That even her father would not care for her.
Thank God it is not go {!
Aud when his cons are playing mcrrily,
She comes and leans her head upon his knee,
o, at such times know
BY his full eyes, and tones subducd and mild,
How his heart ycarns over his Silent child.
Not OF all gifts bercft,
Even now, how could say she did not speak,
What real language light her eye and check
And renders thanks to Him who left
Unto her soul, yet open avenues
For joys to enter, and for love TO US
And God in love doth give
To her defect n beauty of its own,
And we deeper tenderness have known
Through that for which we grieve.
Yet shall the seal be melted from her ear,
Yea and my voice shall fill it-but not hero.
When that new sense ia given,
VI hat rapture will its first experience be,
That never woke to meaner melody
To t,a, ,s ThIp f,ii tonss
While ngels teach the ecsiacies of sound.