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THE BLIND GIRL.

BEREFT of sight, I grope along

In darkness, 'neath the sun's bright rays;

Alike to me are nights or days,

Deserted hall or gayest throng;

My rayless eyes are turned in vain

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To heaven! Of what do I complain?

Sweet sounds delight my quickened ear;

A touch, how exquisitely clear

To me it speaks; - for me the rose

Doth all its rich perfume unclose.

In lonely dell, all else is still,

Is heard the music of the rill;

The babble of the tiny brook,

Just where the streamlet first forsook

The parent spring to wander free

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