[A]ll lost things are in the angels' keeping, Love; No past is dead for us, but only sleeping, Love. - Helen Hunt Jackson

We have flattered ourselves by inventing proverbs of comparison in matter of blindness,—"blind as a bat," for instance. It would be safe to say that there cannot be found in the animal kingdom a bat, or any other creature, so blind in its own range of circumstance and connection, as the greater majority of human beings are in the bosoms of their families.

The goldenrod is yellow;
The corn is turning brown:
The trees in apple orchards
With fruit are bending down.

Like a blind spinner in the sun,
I tread my days;
I know that all the threads will run
Appointed ways;
I know each day will bring its task,
And, being blind, no more I ask.