The Crippled Singer


She sang in the garden
An old island song,
Her sister and warden
Her chair pushed along
Her voice was so sweet
And her joy so complete,
You forget that her feet
Were not very strong.

She sang with such rapture,
So merry was she,
She could capture
My heart willingly.
Though crippled in pain –
She would ne’er walk again –
She sang her refrain
As if she was free.

She sang in the morning,
She sang in the noon,
She sang when adorning
The sky hung the moon.
Her quavering voice
And the songs of her choice
Will make me rejoice,
Though she’s gone so soon.