Female Education

Thou, of the living lyre,Thou, of the lavish clime,Whose mountains mix their lightning-fireWith the storm-cloud sublime,We, of thy sister-land,The empire of the free,Joy as those patriot-breasts expandWith genial Liberty.

Thy flowers their fragrant breastUnfold to catch its ray,And Nature's velvet-tissued vestWith brighter tint is gay,More blest thy rivers rollFull tribute to the Sea,And even Woman's cloister'd soulWalks forth among the free.

Aid with thy tuneful strainHer bold, adventurous way,Bid the long-prisoned mind attainA sphere of dazzling day,Bid her unpinion'd footThe cliffs of knowledge climb,And search for Wisdom's sacred rootThat mocks the blight of time.

Say,—"Break oblivion's sleepAnd toil with florist's art,To plant the germs of virtue deepIn childhood's fruitful heart,To thee, the babe is givenFair from its glorious Sire,Go, nurse it for the King of Heaven,And He will pay the hire."