Her baby brother laughed last night,
  The blind child asked her mother why;
  It was the light that caught his eye.
Would she might laugh to see that light!

The presence of a stiffened corse
  Is sad enough; but, to my mind,
  The presence of a child that's blind,
In a green garden, is far worse.

She felt my cloth - for wordly place;
  She felt my face - if I was good;
  My face lost more than half its blood,
For fear her hand would wrongly trace.

We're in the garden, where are bees
  And flowers, and birds, and butterflies;
  One greedy fledgling runs and cries
For all the food his parent sees!

I see them all: flowers of all kind,
  The sheep and cattle on the leas;
  The houses up the hills, the trees -
But I am dumb, for she is blind.