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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=539658" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Blind Girl</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Kind Christians, pray list to me,<br>And I'll relate a sad story,<br>Concerning a little blind girl, only nine years of age,<br>Who lived with her father in a lonely cottage. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poor girl, she had never seen the blessed light of day,<br>Nor the beautiful fields of corn and hay,<br>Nor the sparrows, that lifted their heads at early morn<br>To bright Sol that does the hills adorn. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And near the cottage door there was an elm tree;<br>But that stunted elm tree she never did see,<br>Yet her little heart sometimes felt gay<br>As she listened to the thrushes that warbled the live-long day. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And she would talk to the wren when alone,<br>And to the wren she would her loneliness bemoan,<br>And say, &quot;Dear little wren, come again to-morrow;<br>Now be sure and come, your singing will chase away my sorrow.&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She was motherless, but she had a drunken father,<br>Who in his savage moods drank all he could gather,<br>And would often cruelly beat her until she would cry,<br>&quot;Dear father, if you beat me I will surely die.&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She spent the days in getting ready her father's food,<br>Which was truly for her drunken father's good;<br>But one night he came home, reeling drunk,<br>And the poor child's heart with fear sunk; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And he cried, &quot;You were at the door when I came up the lane;<br>Take that, you good-for-nothing slut; you're to blame<br>For not having my supper ready; you will find<br>That's no excuse, Sarah, because you are blind.&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And with a stick he struck her as he spoke<br>Across the shoulders, until the stick almost broke;<br>Crying aloud, &quot;I'll teach you better, you little sneak;&quot;<br>And with the beating, Sarah's heart was like to break. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poor little Sarah had never seen the snow;<br>She knew it was beautiful white, some children told her so;<br>And in December, when the snow began to fall,<br>She would go to the door and make a snowball. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">One day she'd been very cheerless and alone,<br>Poor child, and so cold, almost chilled to the bone;<br>For her father had spent his wages in drink,<br>And for want of fire she was almost at death's brink. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her face was pinched with hunger but she never complained,<br>And her little feet with cold were chilblained,<br>And her father that day had not come home for dinner,<br>And the dull grey sky was all of a shimmer. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So poor Sarah was very sick when her father came home;<br>So bad, little dear, that she did sigh and moan,<br>And when her father saw her in bed<br>He was heart-stricken with fear and dread. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So within a few days poor Sarah did die,<br>And for the loss of Sarah the drunken father did cry,<br>So the loss of his child soon converted him<br>From drinking either whiskey, rum or gin.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Topaz+McGonagall">William Topaz McGonagall</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=539658" data-title="The Blind Girl de William Topaz McGonagall" data-description="Kind Christians, pray list to me,
And I'll relate a sad story,
Concerning a little blind girl, only nine years of age,
Who lived with her father in a lonely cottage. 

Poor girl, she had never seen the blessed light of day,
Nor the beautiful field..."></div>
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