Suppose the opalescence of the soul,
by Henry Harding Rogers
Dulled by its contact with the living brain
Burns dim. Suppose hereafter and again
We live, and know a living spirit whole,
Full of great glories that unceasing roll,
Transcending earth-life as the deep stained pane
Of some cathedral window dulls the plain
Ground glass - suppose life here life's nether pole.
Should man not take a new and wider view
Of living? Take a painting, gaze at one
Square inch, you see but brushwork meaningless.
Now raise your gaze, and understanding new
Bursts on you - now you see a golden sun
Flooding a landscape's summer loveliness.