The Harbinger; A May-Gift. Boston. 1833
THE BLIND BOY.
LINES SPOKEN BY A BLIND BOY
AT THE EXHIBITION OF THE PUPILS OF
THE NEW ENGLAND INSTITUTION FOR THE BLIND.
The bird that never tried his wing,
Can blithely hop and sweetly sing;
Though prisoned in a narrow cage,
Till his bright feathers droop with age.
So I, while never blest with sight,
Shut out from heaven's surrounding light,
Life's hours and days and years enjoy,
Though blind, a merry-hearted boy.
That captive bird may never float
Through heaven, or pour his thrilling note
'Mid shady groves, by pleasant streams,
That sparkle in the soft moonbeams;
But he may gaily flutter round,
Within his prison's scanty bound,
And give his soul to song—for he
Ne'er longs to taste sweet liberty.
Oh! may I not as happy dwell
Within my unillumined cell?
May I not leap and sing and play,
And turn my constant night to day?
I never saw the sky, the sea,
The earth was never green to me;
Then why, oh! why should I repine
For blessings that were never mine?
Think not that blindness makes me sad,
My thoughts, like yours, are often glad.
Parents I have, who love me well—
Their different voices I can tell,
Though far and absent, I can hear,
In dreams, their music meet my ear.
Is there a star so dear above,
As the low voice of one you love?
I never saw my father's face;
Yet, on his forehead when I place
My hand, and feel the wrinkles there,
Left less by time than anxious care,
I fear the world has sights of wo,
To knit the brows of manhood so.
I sit upon my father's knee—
He'd love me less if I could see.
I never saw my mother's smile;
Her gentle tones my heart beguile—
They fall, like distant melody,
They are so mild and sweet to me.
She murmurs not—my mother dear!
Though sometimes I have kissed the tear
From her soft cheek, to tell the joy
One smiling word would give her boy.
Right merry was I every day!
Fearless to run about and play
With sisters, brothers, friends, and all,
To answer to their sudden call,
To join the ring, to speed the chase,
To find each playmate's hiding-place,
And pass my hand across his brow,
To tell him—I could do it now!
Yet, though delightful flew the hours,
So passed in childhood's peaceful bowers.
When all were gone to school but I,
I used to sit at home and sigh;
And though I never longed to view
The earth so green, the sky so blue,
I thought I'd give the world to look
Along the pages of a book.
Now, since I've learned to read and write,
My heart is filled with new delight.
And music too—can there be found
A sight so beautiful as sound?
Tell me, kind friends, in one short word—
Am I not like that captive bird?
I live in song and peace and joy,
Though blind, a merry-hearted boy!
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Also, a version in
The Religious Intelligencer.
New-Haven, August 24, 1833
