Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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BLIND BART. |
 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
BLIND BART.
Poor blind Bart
Cannot see, but his heart
Would make up for the desolate fate—
And the shadow that shuts out the troubles
Of the world from his pitiful state,
And yet doubles;
O therefore his lot
Has a blankness as well as a blot;
Though he guesses
God's marvellous creatures,
And shapes for himself while he dresses
In glory and unfallen features.
Cannot see, but his heart
Would make up for the desolate fate—
And the shadow that shuts out the troubles
Of the world from his pitiful state,
And yet doubles;
O therefore his lot
Has a blankness as well as a blot;
Though he guesses
God's marvellous creatures,
And shapes for himself while he dresses
In glory and unfallen features.
Poor blind Bart
Cannot steal from the mart,
As his fellows whose eyes are their own
Though they sell them so cheap to the devil,
But to suffer at last grief unknown
For their revel;
But he from the dark
Stretches vainly dim hands for one spark;
As he blunders
Along his lone journey,
Strange weaving of truth and false wonders—
A knight without arms in a tourney.
Cannot steal from the mart,
As his fellows whose eyes are their own
463
But to suffer at last grief unknown
For their revel;
But he from the dark
Stretches vainly dim hands for one spark;
As he blunders
Along his lone journey,
Strange weaving of truth and false wonders—
A knight without arms in a tourney.
Poor blind Bart
Cannot take a boy's part
In the battle of life, yet he prays
Like a man in the neighbouring chapel;
Where the ranter on Sunday displays
His bright lapel
And fearful new coat—
Where his greasy ineptitudes float;
But the fashion
To him is as nothing,
He hears but the Tale of the Passion,
And sees and is fed and has clothing.
Cannot take a boy's part
In the battle of life, yet he prays
Like a man in the neighbouring chapel;
Where the ranter on Sunday displays
His bright lapel
And fearful new coat—
Where his greasy ineptitudes float;
But the fashion
To him is as nothing,
He hears but the Tale of the Passion,
And sees and is fed and has clothing.
Poor blind Bart
Had a terrible start
In the race where the helpless go down,
He is only a victim of weakness;
And he wears it indeed like a crown
With brave meekness,
And bows to the rod
As he gropes for his Father and God;
His mean living
Prepares what is mortal
For change, and he feels no misgiving
But knocks like a child at death's portal.
Had a terrible start
In the race where the helpless go down,
He is only a victim of weakness;
And he wears it indeed like a crown
With brave meekness,
And bows to the rod
As he gropes for his Father and God;
His mean living
Prepares what is mortal
For change, and he feels no misgiving
But knocks like a child at death's portal.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |