Blind

The Spring blew trumpets of color;

Her Green sang in my brain-

I heard a blind man groping

"Tap-Tap" with his cane;

I pitied him in his blindness;

But can I boast, "I see"?

Perhaps there walks a spirit

Close by, who pities me,--

A spirit who hears me tapping

The five-sensed cane of mind

Amid such unguessed glories--

That I am worse than blind.

-Harry Kemp

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