Poetry Archives

My child, the cold dews of evening are ’round thee,
    Bereft of thy sight,
And dark lines of sorrow and trials surround thee
    By day and by night.

To-day I am sitting so dreary and lonely,
    Heart-sick and in pain,
And wishing ’twere Heaven’s will I could only
    Once see thee again.

If so, I could bear all the pain and the sorrow
    Of life and its cares,
And not fill the hours of the coming to-morrow
    With sighs and with tears.

Like you, many hopes of the future I cherished
    When free from life’s care,
Just so, all my brightest fond visions have perished
    Like mists in the air.

I still hope that God in His merciful kindness
    Thy sight will restore,
And permit thee when perfectly healed of thy blindness
    To see us once more.

But restore thee or not, one hope I will cherish
    At home and abroad,
That I may submit to my fate, though I perish,
    And trust in my God.