HER GIFT
To Our Lady of La Casa Nichita.
She would have told you that she hadNo clever gifts to win and wile;No cunning trick of speech or songTo charm and change your mood the while,Not under her smooth fingers flowedThe music, by her touch set free;Not through her hands her inward dreamWas wrought for all the world to see.And yet—she spoke, and in his soulOne heard the song his vision sought;And one within her eyes beheldThe symbol of his noblest thought;And one who held that Beauty dweltA thing apart from common need,Passed through her door and went his wayTo voice a finer, truer creed.She would have said no gift was hers,No power of speech or brush or pen;And yet—who passing touched her hand,Turned to his highest dream againWith surer faith and larger hope—For hers, the great gift to inspire,To shine across our duller livesAnd light them as with temple fire.