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Poems

Chapter 16: THE LITTLE BLIND BEGGAR

By Josephine Daskam Bacon

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About This Book

A lyrical collection of short poems that moves between domestic intimacy and mythic or maritime imagery, often meditating on motherhood, childhood, sleep, and loss. The pieces range from direct child songs and brief quatrains to sonnets, hymns, odes, and narrative ballads, and include themed sequences such as child songs and a set of Iseult poems. Language favors simple, musical phrasing and quiet introspection, balancing tenderness and elegy with occasional folktale drama. Recurring motifs of nature, the sea, and longing knit the diverse pieces into a cohesive emotional landscape.

THE LITTLE BLIND BEGGAR

At the gate of the world where the travel flows,

And the folk stream by full-tide,

A little blind Beggar sits in the sun

And shoots afar and awide.

He fits the arrow and twangs the bow

And low in his throat laughs he,

For well he knows he will hit his mark

Though never a face he see.

And never his stock of arrows fails,

For the pain of the wound is sweet,

And the stricken folk bring the arrows back

To pile at the Beggar’s feet.

So he fits the arrows and twangs the bow,

And laughs till his fingers shake,

For well he knows he can never miss,

But somewhere a heart must ache.

Now they who are struck, they keep still tongue,

But they carry the arrows back,

And they who are spared they sound abroad

The songs of the pain they lack.

But still or singing, and grave or gay,

Through the gate of the world they go,

And the little blind Beggar sits in the sun

And laughs as he lays them low.