I think true love is never blind,
But rather brings an added light;
An inner vision quick to find
The beauties hid from common sight.
No soul can ever clearly see
Another’s highest, noblest part;
Save through the sweet philosophy
And loving wisdom of the heart.
Your unanointed eyes shall fall
On him who fills my world with light;
You do not see my friend at all,
You see what hides him from your sight.
I see the feet that fain would climb,
You, but the steps that turn astray;
I see the soul unharmed, sublime;
You, but the garment, and the clay.
You see a mortal, weak, misled,
Dwarfed ever by the earthly clod;
I see how manhood, perfected,
May reach the stature of a god.
Blinded I stood, as now you stand,
Till on mine eves, with touches sweet,
Love, the deliverer, laid his hand,
And lo! I worship at his feet!
Noon (Evanston, Illinois), vol. 1 no. 6, March 1901, p. 141
Notes by Andrew Guild:
This poem was written by Phoebe Cary (1824-1871), an American poetess.