Part 17 (1/2)

POEMS BY THE BLIND.

I take the liberty of introducing a few poems by blind authors, feeling that they will be appreciated by the public. Poetry seems to possess peculiar charms for blind people, who, deprived of material sight, seem to love to revel in the beautiful visions presented by the imagination. Among blind poets and rhymesters there are, of course, as many different grades of merit as among the more favored writers, but the proportion of doggerel writers is fortunately much smaller among the blind, and they cannot so readily inflict their scribbling in such volume on a patient public. The poems here presented are selected from among a number of the best productions of the best writers.

LUCY A. LITTLE.

I take great pleasure in introducing into these leaves the following simple poem from the pen of Miss Lucy A. Little, a young blind girl, toward whom I have been drawn by deep sympathy and affection. She was educated in the Wisconsin Inst.i.tution for the Blind, where she graduated with high honor.

She possesses great personal attractions and much intrinsic merit, being the household pet in the home of her grand-parents; and, as the blind have missions, it seems to have been especially hers to minister to those who regard her with doting fondness, and to whom she is a bright prismatic ray, making the shortening path of the old people radiant with, its light.

A JUNE MORNING.

Early one morn in leafy June, When brooks and birds were all in tune, A maiden left her quiet home In meadows and in fields to roam.

She wandered on, in cheerful mood, Through verdant fields and leafy wood.

At length she paused to rest awhile Upon a little rustic stile.

She made a pretty picture there, With her bright, curling, golden hair, And dress of white, and eyes of blue, And ribbons of the self-same hue.

And while she sat absorbed in thought, A form approached. She heeded not Until a hand was gently laid Upon the shoulders of the maid.

Then, looking up in sweet surprise, She saw a pair of jet-black eyes, A perfect form of manly grace, A handsome, open, honest face.

Then said the maid, in voice so clear: ”How did you know that I was here?”

Said he: ”I sought you at your home, They told me you had hither come, And so, I came, this bright June day, To say what I've so longed to say.

When first we met in by-gone days, You charmed me with your winning ways.

Since then the time has quickly flown, Each day to me you've dearer grown, And you can brighten all my life If you will but become my wife.”

She raised her eyes unto his own, And in their depths a new light shone, While in a voice so soft and low She said: ”I _will_; it shall be so.”

And then they homeward took their way, While birds were singing sweet and gay, Now oft they bless that day in June When brooks and birds were all atune.

GOLD WORs.h.i.+PPERS.

BY L.V. HALL.

Within a faded volume, dim and old, I find this musty maxim tersely given: ”The magic key to human hearts is gold, But love unlocks the crystal gates of heaven.”

Our homes are not so happy as of old, Our hearts are not so merry as of yore, We find that nought can purchase love but gold, That virtue begs a pittance at the door.

There was a time when Beauty bore the sway; There was a time when Wit the world controlled; There was a time when Valor won the day; But now the n.o.ble knight that wins, is Gold.

The ancient Ghebers wors.h.i.+pped light and fire; The Brahmins bowed to G.o.ds of wood and stone; But now, 'neath marble dome and gilded spire, The deity adored is gold alone.

It overlays the altar and the cross; It dignifies the monarch and the clown; The wealth of moral worth is counted dross; The million miser wears the golden crown.

'Tis time this mad idolatry should cease; 'Tis time her prophets and her priests were slain; Let earth do homage to the Prince of Peace, And the reign of gold shall be the golden reign.

The Christ came not with pomp and princely show; His followers were lowly and despised; He courted not the high, nor shunned the low; A very G.o.d in human flesh disguised.

He brought a marvelous message from above: A gift of grace and pardon from the King.

He claimed no t.i.the or tribute but of love-- A penitent and contrite heart to bring.