Blind Louise

She knew that she was growing blind,—     Foresaw the dreary night That soon would fall, without a star,     Upon her fading sight; Yet never did she make complaint,     But prayed each day might bring A beauty to her waning eyes,—     The loveliness of spring! She dreaded that eclipse which might     Perpetually enclose Sad memories of a leafless world,     A spectral realm of snows. She ’d rather that the verdure left     An evergreen to shine Within her heart, as summer leaves     Its memory on the pine. She had her wish; for when the sun     O’erhung his eastern towers, And shed his benediction on     A world of May-time flowers, We found her seated, as of old,     In her accustomed place, A midnight in her sightless eyes,     And morn upon her face!