I MISSED the uses of my mother tongue; Afire with Beauty, yet I scarce could speak A few, poor stammering words, hard-wrung From lips inapt. So, through a silent week Of dreamful isolation wandered I, The dumbest thing between the sod and sky. But heaven sent me token, after while: A wee bambino waved a chubby hand At me, the stranger, in the open street; Smiling, it waved; I found it very sweet, This wordless converse; both could understand The universal language of a smile! |