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Cyriack, this three years’ day these eyes, though clear,
To outward view, of blemish or of spot,
Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot;
Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear
Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year,
Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not
Against Heaven’s hand or will, nor bate a jot
Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer
Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask?
The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied
In liberty’s defence, my noble task,
Of which all Europe rings from side to side.
This thought might lead me through the world’s vain mask
Content, though blind, had I no better guide.
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Copyright © 2003-2008 Gunnar Bengtsson, Poetry Connection. All Rights Reserved.
This poem is absolutely marvelous. But it just adds to the sorrow of his life. Though his battlw with his blindness never stopped him from anything, His constant struggle with time ( literally ) is engaged between morality and strength and the truth of the unseen. During the first few lines we can feel the intensity he tries to express in subltle words. He explains to us that time has withered him internally, though his appearence may not show it. But after a duration in the last lines, We see he has become more severe in defence. And we see him rise from death to time.
Aisha from United States