The Mystic Face

Jessica Powers

I never try to probe the sky's blue span,
 I never look too deep into the sea
But the dim face of a tragedian
 Looks out at me.
                                   Fessica Powers

Neither the night nor day can find a place
 Where I have not been shaken with surprise
At the white beauty of a holy face
 And two great lonely eyes.
                                 Fessica Powers

                   A WORD

   He sees shod feet, silk socks, a length of trouser,
   A shirt, a tie, and feels the fitted collar;
   Is suddenly aware of spectacles,
   And then regards his hands. He looks about him-
   Sees table, chairs, his books, and all these things
   At once become inexplicable and strange.
   The thing he is, is strange, the world without-
   Nothing of which to say, This, then, I know.
   Bewildered and afraid, he turns his mind
   Inside-out like a purse, and searches there
   For the right talisman, the golden key;