Poetry Archives

I know not wherefore, but mine eyes
   See bloom, where other eyes see blight.
They find a rainbow, a sunrise,
   Where others but discern deep night.

Men call me an enthusiast,
   And say I look through gilded haze:
Because where’er my gaze is cast,
   I see something that calls for praise.

I say, “Behold those lovely eyes—
   That tinted cheek of flower-like grace.”
They answer in amused surprise:
   “We thought it a common face.”

I say, “Was ever seen more fair?
   I seem to walk in Eden’s bowers.”
They answer, with a pitying air,
   “The weeds are choking out the flowers.”

I know not wherefore, but God lent
   A deeper vision to my sight.
On whatsoe’er my gaze is bent
   I catch the beauty Infinite;

That underlying, hidden half
   That all things hold of Deity.
So let the dull crowd sneer and laugh—
   Their eyes are blind, they cannot see.