Henry Bellamann

WHAT would you do—

If you had ear and brain attuned superbly

To all the iridescent humming-birds of faint

And delicate overtones

That play like spirit flames

Above the music?

Suppose your eyes could see

What mine see when a little wind passes,

And all the garden is suddenly barred and starred

With flying color.

Suppose the tilting planes of dogwood bloom,

In the green spring mist of young leaves,

Caught your breath as though a hand

Held your throat—

Or that the red haw veiling herself in May

Kept you awake at nights

Remembering her bridal look.

Oh, suppose this world of nuances,

Opal-soft and frail and swift,

Were for you a reality more hard

Than things you call reality,

And you lived always among the deaf and blind—

What would you do?