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Yea, though I hate her with a deathless hate,
I shall not curse at her nor yet her kind;
For who would rail and scoff at one whose fate
Was to be maimed or blind?
Such lives receive our pity—not our scorn,
We help them make their broken pleasures whole;
And shall I harm her then—she who was born
A weak and crippled soul?
I shall not curse at her nor yet her kind;
For who would rail and scoff at one whose fate
Was to be maimed or blind?
Such lives receive our pity—not our scorn,
We help them make their broken pleasures whole;
And shall I harm her then—she who was born
A weak and crippled soul?
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