I cannot see your face. When I think of you, It is your hands which I see. Your hands Sewing, Holding a book, Resting for a moment on the sill of a window. My eyes keep always the sight of your hands, But my heart holds the sound of your voice, And the soft brightness which is your soul | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WITH WHOM IS NO VARIABLENESS, NEITHER SHADOW OF TURNING' by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH ETHIOPIA SALUTING THE COLORS by WALT WHITMAN WHAT BEST I SEE; TO U.S.G. RETURN'D FROM HIS WORLD'S TOUR by WALT WHITMAN |