Poetry Archives

Softly every night they come
          To the picture show,
That old couple, deaf and dumb
          In the second row;
Wistful watching, hand in hand,
          Proud they understand.

Shut-ins from the world away,
          All in all to each;
Knowing utter joy as they
          Read the lips of speech . . .
Would, I wonder, I be glum
          Were I deaf and dumb?

Were I quieted away,
          Far from din and shock?
Were I spared the need to say
          Silly things in talk?
Utter hush I would not mind . . .
          Happy they!—I’m blind.