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I kiss'd you oft and gave you white peas;
Why not live sweetlyas in the green trees?
_J. Keats_
LXIX
_THE BLIND BOY_
O say what is that thing called Light
Which I must ne'er enjoy;
What are the blessings of the sight
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You talk of wondrous things you see
You say the sun shines bright;
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My day or night myself I make
Whene'er I sleep or play;
And could I ever keep awake
With me 'twere always day.
With heavy sighs I often hear
You mourn my hapless woe;
But sure with patience I can bear
A loss I ne'er can know.
Then let not what I cannot have
My cheer of mind destroy
Whilst thus I singI am a king
Although a poor blind boy.
_C. Cibber_
LXX
_FALSE FRIENDS-LIKE_
When I was still a boy and mother's pride
A bigger boy spoke up to me so kind-like
'If you do likeI'll treat you with a ride
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