For love brings content to the lowliest lot,
And finds something sweet in the dreariest spot,
And lightens all labor and pain.
And one, where a little blind girl sat alone,
Not sharing the mirth of her playfellows, shone
On hands that were folded and pale,
And kissed the poor eyes that had never known sight,
That never would gaze on the beautiful light
Till angels had lifted the veil.
At last, when the shadows of evening were falling,