She raised her mild blue eyes, and said,
I have a tale to tell,
Which once I read, when I was young,
And now remember well.
My mother bought the book for me,
And brought it home one day,
When I had been a naughty girl,
And passionate at play.
Although the tale was very sad,
I tell it now, that you
May see what very wicked things,
An angry child may do.
GRANDMAMMA’S STORY OF THE BLIND CHILD.
Some ladies once agreed with me,
To give our little ones a sail;
The day was fine, the summer wind
Just blew a soft and pleasant gale.
We stepped on board a pleasure boat,
With gayest colors painted o’er,
And in the bosom of the stream,
We sweetly sailed along the shore.
Our children could not keep their seats,
But every sportive girl and boy,
With hearts as cheerful as the day,
Did skip about the deck for joy;
Except one pretty little girl,
Who sat alone with downcast eye,
And now and then I saw a tear,
And thought I heard a broken sigh.
I wondered much that one so young,
Should seem so pensively inclined,
And asked her mother what it meant;
“Alas!” said she, “the child is blind.
“One day, I never shall forget,
She and her brother were at play;
Something she said offended him,
And so they had a childish fray.