Poems Sigourney 1834/On Seeing the Deaf, Dumb and Blind Girl Sitting for her Portrait

by Lydia Sigourney

ON SEEING THE DEAF, DUMB AND BLIND GIRL, SITTING FOR HER PORTRAIT.

Heaven guide thee artist! Though thy skill
    Can make the enthusiast's passion tear,
And catch expression's faintest thrill,
    What power shall prompt thy pencil here?

She hath no eye—God quenched its beam,
    No ear—though thunder's trump be blown,
No speech—her spirit's voiceless stream
    Flows dark, unfathomed and unknown.

Yet hath she joys, though none may know
    Their germ, their impulse, or their power.
And oft her kindling features glow
    In meditation's lonely hour,

Or when unfolding blossoms breathe
    Their fragrance 'neath a vernal sky,
Or feeling weaves its wild-flower wreath
    As some remembered friend draws nigh,

Then doth the heart its lore reveal
    Though lip and eye are sealed the while,
And then do wildering graces steal
    To paint their language on her smile.

For still the undying soul may teach
    Without a glance, a tone, a sigh,

And well canst thou its mirrored speech
    Interpret to the wondering eye.

What though her locked and guarded mind
    Doth foil philosophy divine,
Till even reason fails to find
    A clue to that untravelled shrine.

Yet may thine art with victor sway
    Win laurels from this desert wild,
And to a future age pourtray
    Mysterious Nature's hermit child.