Her eyes are homes of silent prayer, Nor other thought her mind admits But, he was dead, and there he sits, And he that brought him back is there. Then one deep love doth supersede All other, when her ardent gaze Roves from the living brother's face, And rests upon the Life indeed. All subtle thought, all curious fears, Borne down by gladness so complete, She bows, she bathes the Saviour's feet With costly spikenard and with tears. Thrice blest whose lives are faithful prayers, Whose loves in higher love endure; What souls possess themselves so pure, Or is there blessedness like theirs? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE SMALL CELANDINE (1) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH SONNET: ENGLAND by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH ON FRIENDS AND FOES by WILLIAM BLAKE THE PUZZLE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN DIRGE ON THE DEATH OF ADAMS AND JEFFERSON by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD TO A PERSIAN ROSE by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE DARTMOOR: SUNSET AT CHAGFORD: HOMO LOQVITUR by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |