DUST-SEALED.

I know not wherefore, but mine eyes

See bloom, where other eyes see blight.

They find a rainbow, a sunrise,

Where others but discern deep night.

Men call me an enthusiast,

And say I look through gilded haze:

Because where'er my gaze is cast,

I see some thing that calls for praise.

I say, “Behold those lovely eyes —

That tinted cheek of flower-like 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.