The Things One Can See

How scarce they may be,
a lost charity,
by consumption by millions from thee,
that I find something more,
ere beyond the Door,
something no mortal eye can See.

If by all fourtunes lost,
we have reckoned the cost,
then so be it; 'tis worth naught to me,
but I harken to hear,
every glistening tear,
and it burdens my heart, you see.

And the ruin'd despair,
that is beyond repair,
that such horrors we never forsee,
so I'll take up with heart,
and begin from the start,
an undimm'd eye that truly can see.

Though their guns ring abalze
and their eyes shine so crazed,
that the spoils of war lose their glee,
they will ere hear the trump,
and the drums as they thump,
and they march yet though they cannot see.

A truncated beat
in the late summer's heat,
how it pulses with sweet harmony,
it shocks all the flow'rs
upon ev'ry hour,
as they look at the sun, they can see.

And the youth of the day,
how they laugh and they play,
as they climb the old Grandfather's tree,
they romp and they run,
having all sorts of fun,
even so, only these ones can see.

If by chance we meet,
on an old crowded street,
I will pass then turn to watch thee,
and as I turn around,
it seems that I've found,
that you too are yet watching me.


-D.B.