THE BLIND PSALMIST HE sang the airs of olden times His fingers touched the viol's strings, Hung o'er that aged saint! His thin, white locks, like silver threads His sightless balls to heaven upraised, |
THE BLIND PSALMIST HE sang the airs of olden times His fingers touched the viol's strings, Hung o'er that aged saint! His thin, white locks, like silver threads His sightless balls to heaven upraised, |