FEMALE EDUCATION.
Addressed to a South American Poet.
Thou, of the living lyre,
Thou, of the lavish clime,
Whose mountains mix their lightning-fire
With the storm-cloud sublime,
We, of thy sister-land,
The empire of the free,
Joy as those patriot-breasts expand
With genial Liberty.
Thy flowers their fragrant breast
Unfold to catch its ray,
And Nature's velvet-tissued vest
With brighter tint is gay,
More blest thy rivers roll
Full tribute to the Sea,
And even Woman's cloister'd soul
Walks forth among the free.
Aid with thy tuneful strain
Her bold, adventurous way,
Bid the long-prisoned mind attain
A sphere of dazzling day,
Bid her unpinion'd foot
The cliffs of knowledge climb,
And search for Wisdom's sacred root
That mocks the blight of time.
Say,—"Break oblivion's sleep
And toil with florist's art,
To plant the germs of virtue deep
In childhood's fruitful heart,
To thee, the babe is given
Fair from its glorious Sire,
Go, nurse it for the King of Heaven,
And He will pay the hire."