in his bright blue eyes, his happy spirit sits and smiles

i love this boy, not for his beauty only,

but just because my life that was so lonely

knows in his presence some strange healing power,

an unfamiliar peace — as if each hour

should pause a little in its swift-winged flight

and breathe a benediction. in his bright

blue eyes his happy spirit sits and smiles,

and never evil dreams, or wanton wiles,

or lusts o’ercloud their sweet serenity:

i dare not hope — but, when he looks at me,

something half-shy, half-trusting, leaps therein

and shadows of dead passion and old sin

all dreadful haunting memories, take flight —

you think i’m happy? well — perhaps you’re right!

image: photographer, subjects unknown
text: excerpt, ‘the beautiful,’ by f.s. woodley, (1888-1957)