From One Blind

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Title:     From One Blind
Author: Cale Young Rice [More Titles by Rice]

I cannot say thy cheek is like the rose,
Thy hair like rippled sunbeams, and thine eyes
Like violets, April-rich and sprung of God.
My barren gaze can never know what throes
Such boons of beauty waken, tho' I rise
Each day a-tremble with the ruthless hope
That light will pierce my useless lids--then grope
Till night, blind as the worm within his clod.

Yet unto me thou art not less divine,
I touch thy cheek--and know the mystery hid
Within the twilight breeze; I smooth thy hair
And understand how slipping hours may twine
Themselves into eternity: yea, rid
Of all but love, I kiss thine eyes and seem
To see all beauty God Himself may dream.
Why then should I o'ermuch for earth-sight care?

[The end]
Cale Young Rice's poem: From One Blind

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