Blind from my birth,
Where flowers are springing
I sit on earth
All dark.
Hark! hark!
A lark is singing.
His notes are all for me,
For me his mirth: -
Till some day I shall see
Beautiful flowers
And birds in bowers
Where all Joy Bells are ringing.
More verses by Christina Georgina Rossetti
- All The Bells Were Ringing
- The Dear Old Woman In The Lane
- The Ghost’s Petition
- Jesus, Do I Love Thee?
- Ding A Ding