"I have no master," said the Blind Boy,
"My mother, 'Dame Venus' they do call;
Cowled in this hood she sent me begging
For whate'er in pity may befall.
"Hard was her visage, me adjuring, -
'Have no fond mercy on the kind!
Here be sharp arrows, bunched in quiver,
Draw close ere striking - thou art blind.'
"So stand I here, my woes entreating,
In this dark alley, lest the Moon
Point with her sparkling my barbed armoury
Shine on my silver-lacë"d shoon.
"Oh, sir, unkind this Dame to me-ward;
Of the salt billow was her birth ...
In your sweet charity draw nearer
The saddest rogue on Earth!"
The Blind Boy
Walter De La Mare
(1)
Poem topics: birth, dark, moon, mother, silver, mercy, earth, sweet, hard, sharp, master, stand, shine, point, visage, blind, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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