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 something 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 a common face.”
I say, “Was ever seen 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.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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