“Eyes that See Not.”
Ella Jewett.
They tell us in the land of song,
Where stately tower and palace rise,
Though marbles breathe and canvas glows,
Though tall cathedrals kiss the skies,
The peasant, without thought or care,
Walks on, nor heeds the beauty rare.
We murmur, “Oh, how blind is he!
How destitute of mind and heart!
’Twere worth a fortune once to view
Italia’s treasured gems of art!”
Behold the landscape at our feet!
Was ever painting more complete?
No need to search for noble souls,
Boccaccio’s tale, or Petrarch’s song;
A hundred heroes in our midst
Have learned to suffer and be strong,—
Martyrs whose names will ne’er be known,
Princes without a crown and throne.
Ah, blind and dull! Let us not chide
The dwellers in far Italy,
But rather draw the veil aside
From our own eyes, that we may see,
Lo! all that seemed but commonplace,
Adorned with beauty and with grace!