In an old legend a blind girl, Dara, was touched by St. Bride, and in a moment she saw the surpassing loveliness of the world.  Heaven's very soul of joy in all earthly sorrow is in these exquisite lines.   VD. M. Panton

Yet she said, 'My sister,
Blind me once again,
Lest His pleasure in me
Groweth less plain. 

      Stars and dawn and sunset
Keep till Paradise;
Here His grace sufficeth
For my sightless eyes.' 

                       'Oh,' she said, 'my sister,
                             Night is beautiful,
                        Where His face is shining
                        Who was mock'd as fool. 
                         More than star or meteor,
                         More than moon or sun
                         Is the thorn-crown'd forehead
                             Of the Holy One.'

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