Marked day! on which the earliest dawn of speech
Glimmered, in trial of thy father's name!
Albeit the sound imperfect, yet the aim
Thrilled chords within me, deeper than the reach
Of music! Happy hearted, I did claim
The title which those silver tones assigned;
And in me leaped my spirit, as when first
The father's strange and wondering feeling came!
While this dear thought woke up within my mind,
Which careful memory in her folds has nursed:
'If thus to earthly parent's heart so dear
His child's first accents, though imperfect all--
Dear, too, to FATHER-GOD, when faint doth fall
His new-born's half-formed "Abba" on his ear!'