Hush’d is the voice which ever to her own
Answer’d in tones of tenderness alone;
Still’d are the merry notes of childish glee,
And she is left—of all that family.
She looks abroad, and sees no welcome smile;
No cheerful sounds her long, long hours beguile;
She looks within—and all is mute despair;
She looks to Heaven—O, joy! her all is there!
Do angels hover o’er that lonely place,
Bearing sweet messages of heavenly grace?