Deaf American Poetry: An Anthology

The Mute’s Lament

John Carlin 40 The Mute’s Lament I move—a silent exile on this earth; As in his dreary cell one doomed for life, My tongue is mute, and closed ears heedeth not, No gleam of hope this darkened mind assures That the blest power of speech shall e’er be known. Murmuring gaily o’er their pebbly beds, The limpid streamlets as they onward flow Through verdant meadows and responding woodlands, Vocal with merry tones—I hear them not. The linnet’s dulcet tone; the robin’s strain; The whippowil’s; the lightsome mockbird’s cry, When merrily from branch to branch they skip, Flap their blithe wings, and o’er the tranquil air, Diffuse their melodies—I hear them not. The touches—lyric of the lute divine, Obedient to the rise, the cadence soft, And the deep pause of maiden’s pensive song, While swells her heart with love’s elated life, Draw forth its mellow tones—I hear them not. Deep silence o’er all, and all seems lifeless; The orator’s exciting strains the crowd Enraptur’d hear, while meteor-like his wit Illuminates the dark abyss of mind— Alone left in the dark—I hear them not. While solemn stillness reigns in sacred walls, Devotion high and awe profound prevail, The balmy words of God’s own messenger Excite to love, and troubled spirits soothe— Religion’s dew-drops bright—I feel them not. From wearied search through long and cheerless ways For faithless fortune, I, lorn, homeward turn; And must this thankless tongue refuse to breathe The blest word “Mother,” when that being dear John Carlin 41 I meet with steps elastic, full of joy, And all the fibres of this heart suspective Throb with Nature’s strongest, purest love? Or, that this tongue must still forbear to sing The hymn sublime in praise of God on high; Whilst solemnly the organ peals forth praises, Inspired and deep, with sweetest harmony! Though sad and heavy is the fate I bear, And I may sometimes wail my solitude, Yet, oh! how precious the endowments He, T’alleviate, hath lavished, and shall I Thankless return his kindness by laments? O, Hope! How sweetly smileth Heavenly Hope On the sad-drooping soul and trembling heart! Bright as the morning star when night recedes, His genial smile this longing soul assures That when it leaves this sphere replete with woes, For Paradise replete with purest joys, My ears shall be unsealed, and I shall hear; My tongue shall be unbound, and I shall speak, And happy with the angels sing forever! ...