Blindness

In a stage-coach, where late I chanc'd to be, A little quiet girl my notice caught; I saw she look'd at nothing by the way, Her mind seem'd busy on some childish thought.

I with an old man's courtesy address'd The child, and call'd her pretty dark-eyed maid And bid her turn those pretty eyes and see The wide extended prospect. "Sir," she said,

"I cannot see the prospect, I am blind." Never did tongue of child utter a sound So mournful, as her words fell on my ear. Her mother then related how she found

Her child was sightless. On a fine bright day She saw her lay her needlework aside, And, as on such occasions mothers will, For leaving off her work began to chide.

"I'll do it when 'tis day-light, if you please; I cannot work, Mamma, now it is night." The sun shone bright upon her when she spoke, And yet her eyes receiv'd no ray of light.