A wall <br />Gray and tall, <br />And a sky of gray, <br />And a twilight cold; <br />And that is all <br />That my eyes behold. <br />But I know that unseen, <br />Beyond the wall, <br />On a lawn of green <br />White blossoms fall <br />In the waning light; <br />And beyond the lawn <br />Curtains are drawn <br />From windows bright. <br />And within she moves with her gracious hands <br />And the heart that loves and that understands, <br />Waiting to succour poor souls in need, <br />And to bind with her blessing the hearts that bleed. <br /> <br />I know it all, though I cannot see; <br />But the tired-out tramp, <br />Dirty and ill, <br />In the evening's damp, <br />In the Spring's clean chill, <br />Knows not that there <br />Is the heart to care <br />For such as I and for such as he. <br />He slouches along, and sees alone <br />The gray of the sky and the gray of the stone. <br /> <br />Lord, when my eyes see nothing but grey <br />In all Thy world that is now so green, <br />I will bethink me of this spring day <br />And the house of welcome, known yet unseen; <br />The wall that conceals <br />And the faith that reveals.<br /><br />Edith Nesbit<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/faith-159/
