WE never met; yet to my soul Thy name hath been a voice of singing, And ever to thy glorious lays The echoes of my heart are ringing. We never met; yet is thy face, Thy pictured face, before me now; Strangely, like life, I almost see The dark curls wave upon thy brow! This face reveals that poet-life, Still deepening, still rising higher, A breathing from thy soul of song, A glow from out thy heart of fire! And yet, unlike thy portraiture I would thy living face might be, For ever, as I gaze on this, Thine eyes are turned away from me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE AWAKENING by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SURFACES AND MASKS; 12 by CLARENCE MAJOR SURFACES AND MASKS; 1 by CLARENCE MAJOR SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MRS. SIBLEY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SONG FOR THE FIRST OF THE MONTH by DOROTHY PARKER |