John Oxenham

Blinded!

   You that still have your sight,
   Remember me!—
   I risked my life, I lost my eyes,
   That you might see.
 
   Now in the dark I go,
   That you have light.
   Yours, all the joy of day,
   I have but night.
 
   Yours still, the faces dear,
   The fields, the sky.
   For me—ah me!—there’s nought
   But this black misery!
 
   In this unending night,
   I can but see
   What once I saw, and fain
   Would see again.
   O, midnight of black pain!
   Come, Comrade Death,
   Come quick, and set me free,
   And give me back my eyes again!
 
       

* * * * *

 
   Nay then, Christ’s vicar,
   You who bear our pain,
   Ours be it now to see
   Your dark days lighted,
   And your way made plain.
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