The Silent Girl

She seldom spake; yet she imparted
Far more than language could —
So birdlike, bright, and tender-hearted,
So natural and good!
Her air, her look, her rest, her actions,
Were voice enough for her:
Why need a tongue, when those attractions
Our inmost hearts could stir?
She seldom talked, but, uninvited,
Would cheer us with a song;
And oft her hands our ears delighted,
Sweeping the keys along.
And oft when converse round would languish,
Ask'd or unasked, she read
Some tale of gladness or of anguish,.
And so our evenings sped.
She seldom spake; but she would listen
With all the signs of soul;
Her cheek would change, her eye would glisten;
The sigh — the smile — upstole.
Who did not understand and love her,
With meaning thus o'erfraught?
Though silent as the sky above her,
Like that, she kindled thought.
Little she spake; but dear attentions
From her would ceaseless rise;
She checked our wants by kind preventions,
She hush'd the children's cries;
And, twining, she would give her mother
A long and loving kiss —
The same to father, sister, brother,
All round — nor would one miss.
She seldom spake — she speaks no longer;
She sleeps beneath yon rose;
'Tis well for us that ties no stronger
Awaken memory's woes:
For oh! our hearts would sure be broken,
Already drained of tears,
If frequent tones, by her outspoken,
Still lingered in our ears.