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Little Girl to her friend, with a present of the Rev. Mr. Gallaudet's "Book of the Soul."
Unless my mother guides my hand,
I cannot write, you know.
But such a tide of tender thought
Does round your image flow,
I fain must send one simple scroll
With this sweet book about the Soul.
'Tis written by a learned man,
And though the size is small,
Its subject is a boundless one,
And much concerns us all,
Because the soul can ne'er decay,
When this frail body fades away.
I've never seen this volume's power
At all surpast, my dear,
For making hidden mysteries plain,
And abstract matters clear,
Pray, let it have the highest place,
Your chosen library to grace.
