Page:Poems Sigourney, 1834.pdf/199

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.