THE BLIND GIRL

THEY tell me the leaves are green, the small trees pliant.

-" See how they sway" they say—then pause and fidget, and I can feel the ripples of their awkwardness breaking against the vulnerable shores of my mind.

They tell me the grass is live and warm and short ; now it lies lank and limp against my hand, I feel its weariness on a summer's day.

But flowers are good to touch and sweet to smell.

They tell me the nights are long and dark, unfriendly, and think it queer when I smile at them and their talk.

How can they, who have smelt the clean night air after the unsubtle smells of day think that the night is alien? I know that darkness is a sweet and friendly thing.

And I am happy. I touch and learn all day.

I hear the clouds pass, and I smell the sun.

Only hidden pity makes me sad, when strong unspoken sympathy and love bring the knowledge that I am one apart.

I am a blind girl, and I pity them.

They are unsure, too wise, and too bewildered.

They can see with their eyes ; I with my mind.

They search for things I know they will never find.

What they search for I have deep within me ;

quiet knowledge, sweet and deep contentment—

only such knowledge comes to the hurt, and the blind.

JUDYTH MONNICKENDAM.