Two blind men met. Said one: "This earth <br />Has been a blackout from my birth. <br />Through darkness I have groped my way, <br />Forlorn, unknowing night from day. <br />But you - though War destroyed your sight, <br />Still have your memories of Light, <br />And to allay your present pain <br />Can live your golden youth again." <br /> <br />Then said the second: "Aye, it's true, <br />It must seem magical to you <br />To know the shape of things that are, <br />A women's lips, a rose, a star. <br />But therein lies the hell of it; <br />Better my eyes had never lit <br />to love of bluebells in a wood, <br />Or daffodils in dancing mood. <br /> <br />"You do not know what you have lost, <br />But I, alas! can count the cost - <br />Than memories that goad and gall, <br />Far better not to see at all. <br />And as for love, you know it not, <br />For pity is our sorry lot. <br />So there you see my point of view: <br />'Tis I, my friend, who envy you. <br /> <br />And which was right still puzzles me: <br />Perhaps one should be blind to see.<br /><br />Robert William Service<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/two-blind-men/
