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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 49 |
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As he stood, pale and anxious, before us, Three words, like a soft summer wind,
Went past us and through us and o'er us — A whisper low-breathed : " He is blind ! "
And in many a face there was pity,
In many an eye there were tears; For his words were not buoyant or witty,
As fitted his fresh summer years. And he spoke once or twice, as none other
Could speak, of a woman's pure ways — He remembered the face of his mother
Ere darkness had blighted his days. |
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