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THE BLIND BOY.
THE BLIND BOY.- Colley Cibber.
O SAY what is that thing called light,
You talk of wondrous things you see,
My day or night myself I make,
With me 't were always day.
With heavy sighs I often hear
You mourn my hapless woe; But sure with patience I can bear
A loss I ne'er can know.
Then let not what I cannot have
THE LAME BROTHER.
THE LAME BROTHER. - Miss Lamb.
My parents sleep both in one grave;
A fine, stout boy I knew him once,
He leaped too far, he got a hurt,
He leans on me, when we to school
I cheer him on his weary way,-
The theme of which is mostly this,
Then I reply, "Indeed you 're not
- Led by your little elder hand,
"How often, when my young feet tired,
And still together we can sit,
"For our kind master never minds,
TRANSLATED FROM HERDER, BY MARY HOWITT.
AMONG green, pleasant meadows,
Of the Virgin and the child.
Here, oft, on summer evenings,
That sanctified the grove.
Oft sat his mother by him,
"And now from highest heaven
And hears what thou dost say!"
Thus spoke his tender mother;
And on an evening bright, When the red, round sun descended 'Mid clouds of crimson light,
Again the boy was playing,
Come down and play with me!
"I will find thee flowers the fairest,
"O holy, holy Mother,
Put him down from off thy knee; For in these silent meadows
There are none to play with me!"
Thus spoke the boy so lovely,
The while his mother heard,
That self-same night she dreamed
"And for the fruits and flowers Which thou hast brought to me, Rich blessing shall be given
A thousand-fold to thee!
"For in the fields of heaven
Thou shalt roam with me at will, And of bright fruits celestial
Thou shalt have, dear child, thy fill!"
Thus tenderly and kindly
The fair child Jesus spoke; And, full of careful musings,
The anxious mother woke.
And thus it was accomplished:-
And thus he spoke in dying:-
A coming down to me!
"And in his hand he beareth
Bright flowers as white as snow, And red and juicy strawberries, Dear mother, let me go!"
He died—but that fond mother