Classic Poem

Come , gentle muse! my lay inspire —
Once more I tune my slumbering lyre,
And fain would touch its sweetest string;
Aid me, oh! aid me, while I sing.
But say of what my song shall be —
Would'st hear a plaintive melody?
Or shall I wake a nobler strain,
Some warlike hero's deeds of fame?
Or borne on fancy's magic wing,
Fly to Castalia's limpid spring,
Or climb Parnassus and behold
Where gods and goddesses of old
Were wont in fair Elysian bowers
To dwell 'midst amaranthine flowers?
Or sing of fair Columbia free,
Our own bright land of liberty,
Where o'er full many a patriot's grave
Doth freedom's spangled banner wave?
I seek no dreams of fiction now,
Nor wreaths to deck a warrior's brow;
The theme my happy home shall be,
Endeared by tenderest ties to me.
Here many a rolling year has flown,
The brightest joys I e'er have known
Here have I felt, nor could my heart
Endure from scenes like these to part.
I cannot look o'er earth abroad,
And view the wond'rous works of God;
The distant range of mountains high,
Whose snow-capt summits reach the sky;
The landscape in its robe of green,
The star-gemmed firmament serene;
An all-wise Providence divine
Has this denied; — shall I repine?
God bids me know him and be still, —
I bow submissive to His will.

Reader, permit me to contrast
Our present prospects with the past, —
And if the simple melody
Hath touched a chord of sympathy
(Though scarce I dare to hope a strain
So humble would thy notice claim),
Go, gentle reader, back with me
A few short years, and thou shalt see
The blind in mental darkness left,
To grope their way; full many reft
Of all that rendered life most dear,
Without one beam of hope to cheer
Their stricken hearts; — oh, they were thrown
Friendless upon the world alone.
Touched with compassion for their woes,
A philanthropic few arose,
Resolved to educate the blind,
And throw some light on darkened mind.

This work begun — I pass along
To eighteen hundred thirty-one.
Three sightless orphans were obtained,
Their confidence, their love was gained;
Their mental progress soon repaid
Their teachers for each effort made.
The weeks and months flew quickly past,
The public eye was caught at last,
By such success in efforts new,
For they could scarce believe it true,
That they on whom the orb of day
Had never shed its golden ray
By touch alone were taught to read;
This seemed impossible indeed.

Their numbers rapidly increased,
And soon to them was kindly leased
A private mansion, and around
Old trees o'erspread the pleasure ground.
Here first upon my mental sight
Was poured instruction's blessed light,
Ere yet this sacred pile was reared,
Which shall for ages stand revered.
Close to this spot our home did stand,
And we were but a little band.
Our Managers for many a year
Pursued their work 'twixt hope and fear;
Though countless obstacles they met,
Their courage failed not — fails not yet.
To this great State they then applied,
Nor was her timely aid denied;
She did her fostering care bestow —
What gratitude to her we owe!
How often I recall that day,
When faithful friends were met to lay
The corner-stone of this great pile;
'Twas winter — but see nature smile
On the good work; — now prayers arise
Like holy incense to the skies;
In holy strains a choral lay
Closed the glad service of the day.
Quickly the dreary winter passed,
The gentle spring returned at last;
Then rapidly the work progressed,
And God from heaven beheld and blessed.
The summer came and passed away,
And autumn clad in its array
Of faded charms, each vale and hill.
The voice of winter, loud and shrill,
Broke on our ear with mournful sound,
And in its icy fetters bound
The crystal streams; they ceased to flow,
And nature wore a garb of snow.
'Twas at this time, with sorrow true,
We bade our much loved home adieu;
For oh! its time-worn walls had long
Resounded with our joyous song.
We saw it soon in ruin laid,
And e'en the willow, 'neath whose shade
We often sat, or gambolled round,
The woodman's axe brought to the ground.

Thus time sped on with rapid flight;
Now with emotions of delight,
This noble edifice complete
We view, and in its dear retreat
The friendless, the deserted blind,
Thank heaven! a home and friends can find.

Reader, art weary of my lay?
Or would'st our happy home survey?
Come then, I'll thy conductor be,
Enter its Gothic walls with me.
Mark yonder group! can'st thou not trace
A cheerful smile on every face,
As arm in arm the spacious hall
They promenade? and sightless all!
Hark! gently bursting on thine ear,
The voice of music, soft and clear;
Now mournfully the cadence floats,
And now it swells in loftier notes;
Methinks thou long could'st linger here,
But to the school-room we'll repair.
Here for a moment pause and view,
As they their various tasks pursue;
The unclouded brow, the glowing cheek,
Which doth the heart's own language speak.
Let solemn awe inspire thy breast,
As in this sacred room we rest;
Here, on each holy Sabbath day,
We meet to praise our God and pray;
His ministers of every name,
The gospel messages proclaim.
Nor do we worship here alone —
To all our doors are open thrown;
Yes, all who love the house of prayer,
Are cordially invited here.
Now fade the glorious tints of day,
The setting sun its dying ray
Sheds softly from the crimson west, —
See from this point the Hudson's breast!
Oh! gaze upon the magic scene —
The sky all cloudless and serene,
The mighty river onward flowing,
The whole face of nature glowing —
And say, should not our home be dear?
Ah, who could not be happy here?
Sweet thought! the blind from every State
May in its joys participate.

And now, my muse, farewell to thee!
Here would I close my melody,
And leave thee, gentle reader, too,
And breathe the parting word — adieu!