'Describe to me the colours', said the blind man on the seat
'The colours of the flowers growing wild beneath my feet.'
But the children sitting near him, busy playing, did not hear
Did not see that neath the glasses of the blind man dropped a tear.
'Oh why', the old man whispered 'did this blindness to me come;
To close my eyes forever to the setting of the sun.
Please send to me,' he whispered low, 'a person who can see,
An understanding soul who will the colours show to me.'
With arms outstretched he waited for an answer to his prayer
When soft a voice came drifting o'er the balmy evening air.
'I'll show to you the colours of the flowers, one by one,
The daisy and the clover growing neath the evening sun.'
A small child's hand crept into his and slow the old man rose
'Come', said the unseen child again 'to where the rose tree grows.
You cannot see but you can smell its perfume soft and rare,
And you can hear the birds that sing upon the evening air
You've let your life grow empty since your world went dark as night,
You've shut out all the joys you knew before you lost your sight.
But stand and slowly listen to the sounds that round you swarm
And you'll see that in your mind's eye many pictures you will form.'
'Remember,' said the young child 'there are many just like you
But they go through life rejoicing in the colours they once knew.'
Then all at once the old man saw the meaning to these words
And in his mind recalled the time when he could see the birds
The flowers in the garden, the soft dew on the ground,
The green grass and the beauty of the tall trees all around.
With tears of joy upon his cheeks the old man stooped to find
The small face of the young child who had brought these things to mind.
'You were the answer to my prayer,' the old man humbly said.
'Before you came this world of mine was bitter cold and dead.
But now at last I feel alive, at last I feel no fear;
Henceforth I'm living to the full this life I hold so dear.'
And so his task at last complete the young child rose to go
And leave behind the old man who his help had needed so
There's just one thing he wouldn't say, one thing he wouldn't tell
To the blind man, happy on the seat, the child was blind as well.