Blindness

All dark and comfortless! Where are those various objects that but now Employ'd my busy eyes; where are those eyes? Dead are their piercing rays that lately shot O'er flow'ry vales to distant sunny hills, And drew with joy the vast horizon in. These groping hands are now my only guides, And feeling all my sight. Shut from the living while among the living! Dark as the grave amidst the bustling world! At once from bus'ness and from pleasure barr'd! No more to view the beauty of the spring! Nor see the face of kindred or of friend!