There's a mystic charm most winsome
In th' glance of a speaking eye
Whose light shines in dark recesses
And explores them in passing by.
It illumines the page of the student
As his soul warms by its fire,
And stirs him to greater action,
And lifts aspirations higher.
Every word and look and action
Has weight on trustful youth,
That needs no sage to interpret
Or explain its vital truth.
They are fully comprehended
Through the instinct, every one,
And need no labored searching
In a massive lexicon.
Some call this power attraction,
Some term it affinity,
But all recognize its existence
And wonderful potency.
There's also a power of repulsion
That breathes with abated breath,
Whose presence is best betokened
By ominous signs of death.
No word has an inspiration,
No look has a sign of cheer,
Each act reveals that a burden
Must be borne in sorrow and fear.
The wrecks that are made by its presence
Have filled almshouses and jails
With the deepest of lamentations,
The saddest of human wails.
A selfish, terrible monster
That drives away honor and truth
Is the cold-blooded fiend Repulsion,
The destroyer of tender youth.
The sea in its frenzy and fury,
When lashed by the wintry gales
Casts on the rocks its vessels
Bereft of their spars and sails;