All But Blind By Walter De La Mare

All But Blind

All but blind
In his chambered 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.

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