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...LA PALOMA IN LONDON by CLAUDE MCKAY BIRTHDAY POEM FOR THOMAS HARDY by CECIL DAY LEWIS FAITH by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MRS. SIBLEY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE LAWYERS KNOW TOO MUCH by CARL SANDBURG |