ALL BUT BLIND

By Walter de la Mare

All but blind

In his cambered hole

Gropes for worms

The four-clawed Mole.

All but blind

In the evening sky

The hooded Bat

Twirls softly by.

All but blind

In the burning day

The Barn-Owl blunders

On her way.

And blind as are

These three to me,

So blind to someone

I must be.