As one poet wrote, with the year seasons return, but not to me returns day, or the sweet approach
of ev’n or morn, or sight of flocks, or herds, or human face divine. I had perfect sight. I was in
one short month a bride, a widow, and blind. Upon the loss of my sight, there was no alternative,
so I embarked in the little enterprise of publishing this volume. Those whose eyes are folded
have a quicker sense than sight by which they know and feel when a fixed gaze is upon them.
The impressions of sound are much deeper and more lasting than those of sight; the memories
of the blind are always keepsakes of the heart. But oh! if I were blessed with one moment of
sight, I would pray, let me look again into the face of a cherished friend – a pair of soul-lit eyes,
beaming with intelligence and love; whose spirit-glances imagination cannot picture. Saddened
feelings steal upon us, when, with ravished ears, we listen to descriptions of paintings on walls.
DeKroyft, Susan Helen. A Place in Thy Memory. New York: John F. Trow & Son, 1864. https://archive.org/details/placeinthymemory00mrss/page/5/mode/1up