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 flowerlike grace."
They answer in amused surprise:
"We thought it such a common face."
I say, "Was ever scene 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.
Poetical works of Ella Wheeler Wilcox. by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Edinburgh : W. P. Nimmo, Hay, & Mitchell, 1917.
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