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"Oh, brother," said fair Anne,
To the blind boy at her side;
"Would thou could'st see the sun shine lie
On hill and valley, and the sky
Hung like a glorious canopy
O'er all things far and wide!
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"Would thou could'st see the waters
In many a distant glen;
The mountain flocks that graze around;
Nay, even this patch of stony ground,
These crags, with silver lichen crowned,
I would that thou could'st ken!
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"Would thou could'st see my face, brother,
As well as I see thine:
For always what I cannot see
It is but half a joy to me.
Brother, I often weep for thee,
Yet thou dost ne'er repine!"
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"And why should I repine, Annie?"
Said the blind boy with a smile;
"I ken the blue sky and the gray;
The sunny and the misty day;
The moorland valley stretched away
For many and many a mile!
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"I ken the night and day, Annie,
For all ye may believe;
And often in my spirit lies
A clear light as of mid-day skies;
And splendors on my vision rise,
Like gorgeous hues of eve.
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"I sit upon the one, Annie
Beside our cottage door,
And people say, 'that boy is blind,'
And pity me, although I find
A world of beauty in my mind,
A never-ceasing store.
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"I hear you talk of mountains,
The beautiful, the grand;
Of splintered peaks so gray and tall;
Of lake, and glen, and waterfall;
Of flowers and trees; -- I ken them all; --
Their difference understand.
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"The harebell and the gowen
Are not alike to me,
Are different as the herd and flock
The blasted pine-tree of the rock
The waving birch, the broad, green oak,
The river, and the sea.
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"And oh, the heavenly music
That as I sit alone,
Comes to mine inward sense as clear
As if the angel-voices were
Singing to harp and dulcimer
Before the mighty throne!
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"It is not as of outward sound,
Of breeze, or singing bird;
But wondrous melody refined;
A gift of God unto the blind;
An inward harmony of mind,
By inward senses heard!
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"And all the old-world stories
That neighbors tell o'nights;
Of fairies on the fairy mound,
Of brownies dwelling under ground,
Of elves careering round and round
Of fays and water-sprites;
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All this to me is pleasantness, --
Is all a merry show;
I see the antic people play, --
Brownie and kelpie, elf and fay
In a sweet country far away,
Yet where I seem to go.
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"But better far than this, Annie,
Is when thou read'st to me
Of the dear Saviour meek and kind,
And how he healed the lame and blind,
Am I not healed? -- for in my mind
His blessed form I see!
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"Oh, love is not of sight, Annie
Is not of outward things;
For in my inmost soul I know,
His pity for all mortal woe;
His words of love, spoke long ago,
Unseal its deepest springs!
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"Then do not mourn for me, Annie,
Because that I am blind; --
The beauty of all outward sight;
The wondrous shows of day and night;
All love, all faith, and all delight,
Are strong in heart and mind!"
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