YOUR eyes inspire: they draw their clear conviction From rivers which run deeper than the soul. There is no storm, no wrack that can engulf you, No night of tempest that can make you quail. You are serene and glorious, You stand like a lighted house at nightfall On a desolate moor, with hope in all your windows For the tired traveller. Death is your brother, a kindly one and knightly, There is no terror in his tread, his hands are warm With bearing your own folk gently through his portals. You see clearly across the threshold Into new realms ... the place of many mansions: You see the haven of healing ... men blind with misunderstanding Gaining sight. They are like little battered ships Resting in calm waters—waiting to voyage onward. You are alive ... and dead, Crossing and recrossing with the tides, Your hands are full of miracles, your mouth of wonders; Your very presence is peacefulness. From your lips falls faith, I stoop to gather it to my own heart To make me brave, to help me serve: I would that the Christ could gaze through my eyes As I have seen Him at your clear windows. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOAL by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE HARD TIMES IN ELFLAND; A STORY OF CHRISTMAS EVE by SIDNEY LANIER HOUSE WITH THE MARBLE STEPS by AMY LOWELL WAITER IN A CALIFORNIA VIETNAMESE RESTURANT by CLARENCE MAJOR SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: IMANUEL EHRENHARDT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |