Gateway to the Classics: Display Item
Christina Georgina Rossetti

Blind from My Birth

Blind from my birth,

Where flowers are springing

I sit on earth

All dark.

Hark! hark!

A lark is singing,

His notes are all for me,

For me his mirth:—

Till some day I shall see

Beautiful flowers

And birds in bowers

Where all Joy Bells are ringing.