=The Blind Musician=
"Ah! who comes here?" old Raymond cried,
As lone he sat by the highway-side,
Where Frisk jumped up at his knee in play;
And his white locks went to the air astray;--
While his worn-out hat lay on the ground,
And his light violin gave forth no sound--
"Ah! who comes here with voice so kind
To the ear of a poor old man who's blind?"
'Twas a gladsome troop of bright young boys,
With hearts all full of their play-day joys,
As their baskets were of nuts and cake,
And fruits, a pic-nic treat to make.
For they were out for the fields and flowers--
For the grassy lane, and the woodland bowers;
And the course they took first led them by
Where the lone one sat with a sightless eye.
They saw he'd a worn and hungry look;
And each from his basket promptly took
A part of its precious pic-nic store,
And tried the others to get before,
As on with their ready gifts they ran,
To reach them forth to the poor old man;
And said, "Good Sir, take this and eat
While resting thus on your mossy seat."
"Heaven bless you, little children dear!"
Old Raymond cried, with a starting tear,
As they took their cup to the fountain's brink,
And brought him back some clear, cool drink.
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