William D Drake - The Blind Boy lyrics

O say what is that thing call'd light Which I must ne'er enjoy What are the blessings of the sight O tell your poor blind boy! You talk of wondrous things you see You say the sun shines bright I feel him warm, but how can he Or make it day or make it night Or make it day? My day or night myself I make Whene'er I sleep or play And could I ever keep awake With me 'twere always day With heavy sighs I often hear You mourn my hapless woe But sure with patience I can bear A loss I ne'er can know Then let not what I cannot have My cheer of mind destroy Whilst thus I sing, I am a king Although a poor blind boy