by Patience Worth
He who speaks with a barbed tongue-
Direct as an arrow; whose eyes are pits,
Deep as midnight-and as covering!
Aye, he whose heart is the tabernacle,
Yea, the sanctuary of all men.
Behold, if thou hast a sorrow, take it
To the tabernacle door and knock;
And behold, there is no password,
Save two pitlike eyes and a grasp
Which has a soul within it.
Oh, give me not wine, nor feast,
Nor muses. Nay, give me such a man!
In whose eyes I may look and dream dreams
Of deeps, to be led past the paltry
Arguments of men, out upon the open sea
Of fellowship and understanding.
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