As haggard as an owl by day, A blind man through the town doth stray, While, vaguely groping 'mid the keys, A dreary flute his fingers tease. He pipeth antiquated strains Wherein scant melody remains, And, like a ghost, with sightless eyes Where'er his dog may lead him, hies. For him the noon-day hath no light; For him, the world is drowned in night; He hears it roaring, like the fall Of plunging streams behind a wall. God knows what dark chimeras vain Haunt the dim chambers of his brain; What fantasies inscrutable Thought writes within his reason's cell! So oft, half-crazed by want of sleep, Some captive in a dungeon-keep With rusty nail obscurely scrawls Strange hieroglyphics on the walls. Still, who can tell? Perchance, when Death Hath quenched Life's taper with his breath, The blind man's soul, inured to gloom, Shall see distinctly in the tomb! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AGAINST HOPE by ABRAHAM COWLEY THE MEMORY OF MARTHA by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE CAPTAINS OF THE YEARS by ARTHUR RAYMOND MACDOUGALL JR. PSALM 104 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE VOYAGE TO LULLABY LAND by EARL ALONZO BRININSTOOL PENELOPE by ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN A SONG OF ISRAEL by JAMES HAZARD CUTHBERT |