I cannot see your face. When I think of you, It is your hands which I see. Your hands Sewing, Holding a book, Resting for a moment on the sill of a window. My eyes keep always the sight of your hands, But my heart holds the sound of your voice, And the soft brightness which is your soul | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: JOHN WASSON by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ETHELSTAN: RUNILDA'S CHANT by GEORGE DARLEY SATIRES OF CIRCUMSTANCE: 9. AT THE ALTAR-RAIL by THOMAS HARDY LAUS VENERIS by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE ANECDOTE FOR FATHERS by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |