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!