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!