1850-60. BENJAMIN T. GUSHING. 493 Books tell me that they murmur, but their calling Comes not to me — my ear is closed in night ! I oft have wondered what strange power is lying In that mysterious thing which men name sound — What hues it paints upon the soul with dying So rich and beautiful, yet so profound ! Is it something which the ear in viewing Is touched with rapture, as by flowers the eye ? In vain my fancy tires her wing pursuing, I cannot grasp the secret though I die ! They point to me the bird which high is winging Its way where boughs float on the sum- mer air — They write me that a gladsome lay 'tis singing. Is its gay song, then, like its plumage rare, That shines in gold and purple ? They do tell me The somber owl gives forth a dismal call : I'm sure that song could ne'er with rapture spell me — It must be like a coffin's mournful pall. I now remember childhood's sky was o'er me. When first I pondered how my brethren there In some fond secret were far, far before me ; And as I pondered, could ^ but despair ? Lo, when our mother, so serene and beau- teous. Moved her sweet lips, they seemed to catch the bliss, And answer it with smile and movements duteous — I then thought sound was like my mother's kiss. As I grew older, by the shore they took me. Where the big wave came foaming to- ward the rock. But whilst I stood there, they in dread forsook me, Stopping their ears as if they felt the shock. Before it came, of the huge billow dash- ing Against the beach. Then I thought there must be A feeling in their ears which knew the lashing, As did my shaken limbs, of the great sea ! But when all backward rolled that billow teeming, They took up from the shore whereon 'twas cast, A spiral shell of many-colored gleaming — Red, yellow, purple — like the clouded east ; With joy we danced ! Soon tired I of the treasure, But to their ears they placed it, and with glee, Again they sprang — thence deemed I sounds of pleasure Were like that colored shell by the deep sea! I view the soldiers on their chief attend- And deem their war-note like their daz- zling march ; Goes it not upward with the steed-tramp blending. And flaunting, like their banners, heav- en's proud arch ?
