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.