SHE passes in her beauty bright <br /> Amongst the mean, amongst the gay, <br />And all are brighter for the sight, <br /> And bless her as she goes her way. <br /> <br />And now a gleam of pity pours, <br /> And now a spark of spirit flies, <br />Uncounted, from the unlock’d stores <br /> Of her rich lips and precious eyes. <br /> <br />And all men look, and all men smile, <br /> But no man looks on her as I: <br />They mark her for a little while, <br /> But I will watch her till I die. <br /> <br />And if I wonder now and then <br /> Why this so strange a thing should be— <br />That she be seen by wiser men <br /> And only duly lov’d by me: <br /> <br />I only wait a little longer, <br /> And watch her radiance in the room; <br />Here making light a little stronger, <br /> And there obliterating gloom, <br /> <br />(Like one who, in a tangled way, <br /> Watches the broken sun fall through, <br />Turning to gold the faded spray, <br /> And making diamonds of dew). <br /> <br />Until at last, as my heart burns, <br /> She gathers all her scatter’d light, <br />And undivided radiance turns <br /> Upon me like a sea of light. <br /> <br />And then I know they see in part <br /> That which God lets me worship whole: <br />He gives them glances of her heart, <br /> But me, the sunshine of her soul.<br /><br />William Cosmo Monkhouse<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-secret-4/
