SEE them, my soul! how dreadful they appear, Like puppets vaguely droll; yet terror deep Is with them, as with those who walk in sleep, Turning their darkling orbs you know not where. Their eyes, from which the spark divine has fled, As though far gazing, aye! are lifted found To Heaven. You never see them to the ground Lean dreamily their overburdened head. Thus through the illimitable black they pass, Twin of eternal silence! whilst, alas! O city! you around us sing, laugh, shriek. Enthrall'd by pleasure to depravity! I too plod on--more dull and sad--and cry, 'Poor old blind folk! from heaven what can they seek?' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEATH (1) by MAXWELL BODENHEIM THE FLOOD OF YEARS by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT SESTINA: 1. OF THE LADY PIETRA DEGLI SCROVIGNI by DANTE ALIGHIERI THE THREE LITTLE KITTENS (A CAT'S TALE, WITH ADDITIONS) by ELIZA LEE CABOT FOLLEN WINTER EVENING by ARCHIBALD LAMPMAN UPON WEDLOCK, AND DEATH OF CHILDREN by EDWARD TAYLOR THE EVERLASTING GOD by EDWARD HENRY BICKERSTETH ON MR. FREDERICK PORTER'S ROOM OF PICTURES, 1930 by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |