The Blind Pedlar

I STAND alone through each long day
Upon these pavers; cannot see
The wares spread out upon this tray
—For God has taken sight from me!
 
Many a time I've cursed the night        
When I was born. My peering eyes
Have sought for but one ray of light
To pierce the darkness. When the skies
 
Rain down their first sweet April showers
On budding branches; when the morn  
Is sweet with breath of spring and flowers,
I've cursed the night when I was born.
 
But now I thank God, and am glad
For what I cannot see this day
—The young men cripples, old, and sad,  
With faces burnt and torn away;
 
Or those who, growing rich and old,
Have battened on the slaughter,
Whose faces, gorged with blood and gold,
Are creased in purple llaughter!