On colours ripe and rich for the heart's desire —
Tomatoes, redder than Krakatoa's fire,
Oranges like old sunsets over Tyre,
And apples golden-green as the glades of Paradise.
And, as I lingered, lost in delight,
My heart thanked God for the goodly gift of sight
And all youth's lively senses keen and quick...
When suddenly, behind me in the night
I heard the tapping of a blind man's stick
~ Wilfrid Wilson Gibson ~