I never asked a blind man what he sees. Perhaps, a blaze of sunset through pine trees, Or aspen catkins dangling in a breeze. Perhaps—I hope it is not true—a drear, Black nothing, empty space—a queer Uncertainty with fear of coming fear. I hope he has rich memories impressed. Perhaps he has advantage of the rest, Since we must see the ugly with the best. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER MUSIC: 15 by JAMES JOYCE THE CAMELOPARD by HILAIRE BELLOC NOT TRANSHISTORICAL DEATH, OR AT LEAST NOT QUITE by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE LITTLE FIRE IN THE WOODS by HAYDEN CARRUTH A PECK OF GOLD by ROBERT FROST WHEN THE SPEED COMES by ROBERT FROST |