University of Virginia Library


155

THE BLIND MAN'S WIFE.

She leads him, when the day is fair,
Along the smoothest, sunniest street,
Choosing the way, with watchful care
Before his slow, uncertain feet.
She guards him deftly from the throng
That crowds before or hastes behind,
Guiding him tenderly along
Like a lost child—for he is blind.
And day by day, and year by year,
She is his staff, his strength, his sight—
The steady planet, shining near,
Which cheers and lights his lifelong night.
Because she loves him. What beside
Could keep her, all the weary days,
His helper, savior, slave and guide,
Who never thanks her nor repays?
Nor slow strong force, nor sudden wrench,
Nor both, can such a love discrown,
Which many waters cannot quench,
Nor floods of hurrying billows drown.
He does not see her furrowed face,
Her crooked form, her faded hair—
She is to him all bloom and grace,
But still more kind than she is fair.
Old, feeble, poor, and blind, his whole
Of life is darkness, want and pain,
Yet rich in that which many a soul
More strong and proud, would die to gain.
Oh, with a power but faintly told
In sweetest tales of prose or rhyme,
Love's everlasting arms uphold
The heaviest loads of life and time!