 | The Poetical Works of Eliza Cook |  |
THE BLIND BOY'S BEEN AT PLAY, MOTHER.
The blind boy's been at play, mother,
And merry games we had;
We led him on our way, mother,
And every step was glad.
But when we found a starry flower,
And praised its varied hue;
A tear came trembling down his cheek,
Just like a drop of dew.
And merry games we had;
We led him on our way, mother,
And every step was glad.
But when we found a starry flower,
And praised its varied hue;
A tear came trembling down his cheek,
Just like a drop of dew.
We took him to the mill, mother,
Where falling waters made
A rainbow o'er the rill, mother,
As golden sun-rays played;
But when we shouted at the scene,
And hailed the clear, blue sky;
He stood quite still upon the bank,
And breathed a long, long sigh.
Where falling waters made
A rainbow o'er the rill, mother,
As golden sun-rays played;
But when we shouted at the scene,
And hailed the clear, blue sky;
He stood quite still upon the bank,
And breathed a long, long sigh.
617
We asked him why he wept, mother,
Whene'er we found the spots
Where periwinkle crept, mother,
O'er wild forget-me-nots:
“Ah, me!” he said, while tears ran down,
As fast as summer showers;
“It is because I cannot see
The sunshine and the flowers.”
Whene'er we found the spots
Where periwinkle crept, mother,
O'er wild forget-me-nots:
“Ah, me!” he said, while tears ran down,
As fast as summer showers;
“It is because I cannot see
The sunshine and the flowers.”
Oh, that poor, sightless boy, mother,
Has taught me I am blest!
For I can look with joy, mother,
On all I love the best;
And when I see the dancing stream,
And daisies red and white;
I kneel upon the meadow grass,
And thank my God for sight.
Has taught me I am blest!
For I can look with joy, mother,
On all I love the best;
And when I see the dancing stream,
And daisies red and white;
I kneel upon the meadow grass,
And thank my God for sight.
| The Poetical Works of Eliza Cook | |