THE BLIND MAN AND HIS SON

"The distant boom of angry guns No longer fills my ear. Oh! whither have we fled, my son? Tell me, that I may hear." "Father, we are in England!" "No more I hear the stormy wind Amid the rigging roar. I feel beneath my tottering feet The firm ground of the shore. Is this the end of all our woes? Shall we not suffer more?" "Father, we are in England!" "I hear the sound of kindly speech, But do not understand; I feel I've wandered very far, Far from the fatherland; How comes it that these tones are not Those of an unknown land?" "Father, we are in England!" "I feel in all the air around Freedom's sweet breath respire. I feel celestial fingers creep Along my quivering lyre; The birds, the trees, the babbling streams Speak to me of our home, Why does my grief less bitter grow And rest so dear become?" "Father, we are in England!" "Bend down upon thy knees, my son, And take into thy hand, Thy wounded hand, and mine, somewhat Of the earth of this good land, That dreaming of our home, we two May kiss the soil of England!" Emile Cammaerts