University of Virginia Library

TO A BLIND CHILD.

Thou wreck of human hopes! whose darkened eyes
No more behold the blue and sunny skies,
Doomed in thy joyous childhood's early day
Blindly to grope along thy cheerless way;
Ere yet the bitter tear of sorrow streaming
Had clouded those sweet orbs, or dimmed their beaming,
It was foretold that fate—and now, alas!
The awful prophecy hath come to pass.
Oh, thou unhappy! in thy infant hours
How glad thy parents watch'd thy dawning powers;
O'er thy young innocence enraptured hung,
Praised the soft murm'ring accents of thy tongue,
And guessed thy meaning, not from words alone,
But from the speaking orbs that brightly shone—
That glorious feature of the human face,
That silent language nothing can replace.
They watched, as slowly stealing, ray by ray,
That gentle light was fading fast away;
And wept, in sad and hopeless agony,
O'er the dimmed glance of thy half-conscious eye.
At length it ceased, and darkness then dwelt there,
Unbroken—cheerless—deep as their despair!
Mournful, expressionless, they turn to those
Who watched with rapture once their lids unclose;
And from those darkened orbs is slowly stealing
The only trace now left of earthly feeling,
A tear—a silent tear, condemned to flow
For vanished joys, or years of future woe.
Oh! far more moving is that look to me
Than all the supplicating agony—
The pearly drops that fall from Beauty's eyes,
Her bursting sobs, her low and melting sighs.
Mourners there be of whom we soothe the pain,
And, where we pity, pity not in vain;
But here there is a look which seems to say,
Thou canst do nought for me—we turn away,
Sick at the heart. O thou lamented one!
Perchance long years are thine to spend alone!
No gladsome child shall frolic by thy side,
Thy feeble age some stranger hand shall guide;
Or faithful dog, with dumb, imploring glance,
Collect the half-reluctant alms:—perchance,
Wandering and weary, thou shalt lay thy head
In the poor shelter of some ruined shed;
Or rest thy worn-out form beneath a tree,
While darken o'er thee skies thou canst not see—
While dreadful night the trembling world enshrouds,
And the hoarse thunder struggles through the clouds,
Then, while the bitter blast is howling round,
Defenceless thou shalt stretch thee on the ground;
And cowering by his helpless master's side,
Like thee forsaken, and all help denied,
The sole companion of thy cheerless track
Shake the cold raindrops from his shivering back,
And shrinking, shuddering, of the storm afraid,
Seek aid from thee—thou canst not give him aid.
In such an hour, perchance, thou'lt breathe thy last,
Thy dirge the moaning of the wintry blast!
Shield, shield his houseless head, all-pitying Heaven!
When far in eddying rounds the snow is driven!
Whom man neglects, stretch thou thy hand to save,
Protect the transient life thy mercy gave;
Let him not die, nor leave one friend behind
To echo those sad words—“Pity the poor old blind!”