Explore "Through Dim Eyes" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Is it the world, or my eyes, that are sadder? / I see not the grace that I used to see / In the meadow-brook whose song was so glad, or / In the boughs of the willow tree. / The brook runs slower-its song seems lower / And not the song that it sang of old; / And the tree I admired looks weary and tired / Of the changeless story of heat and cold.
When the sun goes up, and the stars go under, / In that supreme hour of the breaking day, / Is it my eyes, or the dawn, I wonder, / That finds less of the gold, and more of the gray / I see not the splendour, the tints so tender, / The rose-hued glory I used to see; / And I often borrow a vague half-sorrow / That another morning has dawned for me.