A Blind Man's Thoughts

A Blind Man's Thoughts

I little knew the worth of sight,

Before m lamp was snatched away,

Ah! had I garnered up the light,

My mind had not been dark to-day;

Had coming eve foreshadowed thought,

How precious then would morn have been;

Alas! I saw not what I ought.

And saw what I should not have seen.

The blow descended as I slept;

I woke unconscious of my doom,

While morning unsuspected crept

With stealthy footsteps round my room;

But when the dawn had passed away,

The unwonted merry call of some

Who came to tell me it was day,

Told me—my polar night was come.

It died—that first bewildering wain;

But rapid memory, n'er at rest,

Marshals a long and mournful train

Of dead enjoyments once possessed;

So to the minds of drowning men,

When past the anguish and the strife,

One dashing moment shows again

Each letter on the page of life.

Yet would I not complain; I feel

Some pleasures are obscured by light,

As darkness can alone reveal

The solitary orbs of night;

The flowers, unseen, yield sweeter scent,

The touch of love is prized the more,

And woman's silvery voice is blent

With music never heard before.

Yea, though I tread the vale of night,

I fear no ill, for He is there

Who with the rod of pain to smite,

Has given the staff of strength to bear,

Had thus, with darkened steps and slow,

Yet led by faith, I venture on,

So close to Him who deals the blow

That half its heavy weight is gone.

R.R.

1:18, p. 1

11.19.1859