Maiden, Arise

She, whom through life her God forbade to hear
The voices of her nearest and most dear,
So that she dwelt, amid the hum and rush
Of cities, in a vast, eternal hush,
Yet heard the first low calling of the voice
That others had not heeded in the noise,
And rising, when it whispered �Come with me,�
Followed the form that others could not see,
Smiling, perchance, in death at last to hear
The voices of the Angels fill her ear,
While the great, silent void that closed her round
Was overflowed with rippled floods of sound,
And the dumb past in Alleluias drowned.

March, 1877.