English Poetry I: From Chaucer to Gray.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
Colley Cibber
282. The Blind Boy
O
Which I must ne’er enjoy;
What are the blessings of the sight,
O tell your poor blind boy!
You say the sun shines bright;
I feel him warm, but how can he
Or make it day or night?
Whene’er I sleep or play;
And could I ever keep awake
With me ’twere always day.
You mourn my hapless woe;
But sure with patience I can bear
A loss I ne’er can know.
My cheer of mind destroy:
Whilst thus I sing, I am a king,
Although a poor blind boy.