HER GIFT
To Our Lady of La Casa Nichita.
She would have told you that she had
No clever gifts to win and wile;
No cunning trick of speech or song
To charm and change your mood the while,
Not under her smooth fingers flowed
The music, by her touch set free;
Not through her hands her inward dream
Was wrought for all the world to see.
And yet—she spoke, and in his soul
One heard the song his vision sought;
And one within her eyes beheld
The symbol of his noblest thought;
And one who held that Beauty dwelt
A thing apart from common need,
Passed through her door and went his way
To 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 again
With surer faith and larger hope—
For hers, the great gift to inspire,
To shine across our duller lives
And light them as with temple fire.