University of Virginia Library

Search this document 

expand section


V

L'ENVOI.

I have indited thee with care and love,
My little book; and now I send thee forth
On a good mission, like the gentle dove,
Bearing glad tidings with thee o'er the earth.
Thou wast not meant for riot and for jest,
Dear little book, all simple as thou art;
But in sweet homes to be a loving guest;
And find a place in many a guileless heart.
Have not a fear! I know that thou wilt find
Thy journey pleasant as a path of flowers,
For pure and youthful hearts are ever kind,
Glad to be pleased with labour such as ours.

VI

Sit down with little children by the way,
And tell them of sweet Marien, how she went
Over the weary world from day to day,
On christian works of love, like thee, intent.
Tell them of Him who framed the sea, the sky;
The glorious earth and all that dwell therein;
And of that Holy One made strong to die,
Sinless himself, to save the world from sin.
And thou hast many a tale of wonder planned
With various art to make the spirit wise;
These have I given thee that thou may'st command
Glad smiles at will and pitying tears and sighs.
For thus, young, generous spirits would be won;
And I have gifted thee to win them best;
Now go thou forth undaunted, gentle one,
And trust thy cause to every youthful breast.
Go forth, and have thou neither fear nor shame;
Many shall be thy friends, thy foes be few;
And greet thou those who love thee in my name,
Yea, greet them warmly! Little book, adieu!

1

THE BLIND BOY AND HIS SISTER.

Oh brother,” said fair Annie,
To the blind boy at her side;
“Would thou could'st see the sunshine lie
On hill and valley, and the sky
Hung like a glorious canopy
O'er all things far and wide!

117

“Would thou could'st see the waters
In many a distant glen;
The mountain flocks that graze around;
Nay, even this patch of stony ground,
These crags, with silver lichen crowned,
I would that thou could'st ken!
“Would thou could'st see my face, brother,
As well as I see thine;
For always what I cannot see
It is but half a joy to me.
Brother, I often weep for thee,
Yet thou dost ne'er repine!”
“And why should I repine, Annie?”
Said the blind boy with a smile;
“I ken the blue sky and the grey;
The sunny and the misty day;
The moorland valley stretched away
For many and many a mile!
“I ken the night and day, Annie,
For all ye may believe;

118

And often in my spirit lies
A clear light as of mid-day skies;
And splendours on my vision rise,
Like gorgeous hues of eve.
“I sit upon the stone, Annie,
Beside our cottage door,
And people say, ‘that boy is blind,’
And pity me, although I find
A world of beauty in my mind,
A never-ceasing store.
“I hear you talk of mountains,
The beautiful, the grand;
Of splintered peaks so grey and tall;
Of lake, and glen, and waterfall;
Of flowers and trees;—I ken them all;—
Their difference understand.
“The harebell and the gowan
Are not alike to me,
Are different as the herd and flock,
The blasted pine-tree of the rock,
The waving birch, the broad, green oak,
The river, and the sea.

119

“And oh, the heavenly music,
That as I sit alone,
Comes to mine inward sense as clear
As if the angel-voices were
Singing to harp and dulcimer
Before the mighty Throne!
“It is not as of outward sound,
Of breeze, or singing bird;
But wondrous melody refined;
A gift of God unto the blind;
An inward harmony of mind,
By inward senses heard!
“And all the old-world stories
That neighbours tell o'nights;
Of fairies on the fairy mound,
Of brownies dwelling under ground,
Of elves careering round and round,
Of fays and water-sprites;
All this to me is pleasantness,—
Is all a merry show;

120

I see the antic people play,—
Brownie and kelpie, elf and fay,
In a sweet country far away,
Yet where I seem to go.
“But better far than this, Annie,
Is when thou read'st to me
Of the dear Saviour meek and kind,
And how he healed the lame and blind.
Am I not healed?—for in my mind
His blessèd form I see!
“Oh, love is not of sight, Annie,
Is not of outward things;
For, in my inmost soul I know,
His pity for all mortal woe;
His words of love, spoke long ago,
Unseal its deepest springs!
“Then do not mourn for me, Annie,
Because that I am blind;—
The beauty of all outward sight;
The wondrous shows of day and night;
All love, all faith, and all delight,
Are strong in heart and mind!”