Poems for Children Sigourney/Little Girl to her friend, with a present of Rev. Mr. Gallaudet's "Book on the Soul"

by Lydia Sigourney

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.

I often of your sister think,
    That early smitten flower,
Who gave her soul so cheerfully
    To God, in life's last hour:
Oh, may we meet her when we die,
In yonder, bright, unclouded sky.

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