Classic Poem

I CLEARLY spoke and yet no answer came,
My words thrice uttered, it was still the same,
While eyes that hinted not of any ill
Seemed to be waiting on their owner's will.

— Two precious powers hath she lost, — thought I,
— But though she hears not nor can speak reply,
Strange, since the eyes seem looking into mine,
She does not greet me with some common sign. —

At last it crossed me, — Is there blindness too?
Have those quick eyes no real work to do?
What if to hers a tender hand I reach!
A touch can carry pity more than speech. —

But even ere the flash of thought went out,
Her lips were parted and resolved my doubt;
Startled at words, still more was I to hear
That though no sound could reach the closèd ear,

And though death's darkness hung upon the eye,
Yet still she had the sense of some one nigh,
— If it be so, — — she blindly reached her hand, —
— Take this in yours that I may understand! —

Do not dear spirits daily come to us?
Are not we conscious of their presence thus?
With eyes, we see not; want the hearing ear,
But the soul feels another soul is near.