  The silver band was playing divinely At the close of a perfect summer day; And my heart in unison was throbbing, As I brushed a tender tear away. In the soft glow of the golden sunset I saw two poor blinded eyes upturned To the purpling skies, so fair and deep, And my soul with sympathy yearned. He had caught the tender, passionate strains, Swelling and dreamily dying away, As wave after wave sweetly rose and fell, The soul welling up in immortal lay. The light softly fell on his blinded eyes, And over his speaking and careworn face Stole a holy light unutterable; A glow of ecstasy there I could trace. His soul was attuned to melodious strains. What he saw through his weary sightless eyes I never may know; but surely it was A glimpse of the heavenly paradise. For surely God’s pity is reaching down To the help of the poor and sightless here; And He takes the poor groping toil-worn hands, And points the way to the heavenly sphere. The sun went down, and the sad shadows came Merging into the dreamy, soft twilight; The music ceased, and we stole away Into the deepening gloom of night. And in the dream and mystery of life We move along on our separate ways; But the pleading look of those sightless eyes Will follow me all my allotted days. Ah, me! we, too, are oft blindly groping In the weird darkness and danger alone; We see not the dread pitfalls before us, And oft are defeated and overthrown. Sometimes, through the cold mist and the dimness, We catch a glimpse of resplendent day, And a strain of sweetest music supernal, The refrain of a distant celestial lay. |
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