Orbler
Byron Twain
Brenton
Dexter
Jeanne Dininni
Shilpa KarhikThe Quiet Eye by Eliza Cook
April 11th 2008 00:08
The Quiet Eye
by Eliza Cook
by Eliza Cook
Eliza Cook 1818 - 1889
THE ORB I like is not the one
That dazzles with its lightning gleam;
That dares to look upon the sun,
As though it challenged brighter beam.
That orb may sparkle, flash, and roll;
Its fire may blaze, its shaft may fly;
But not for me: I prize the soul
That slumbers in a quiet eye.
There ’s something in its placid shade
That tells of calm, unworldly thought;
Hope may be crown’d, or joy delay’d—
No dimness steals, no ray is caught.
Its pensive language seems to say,
“I know that I must close and die;”
And death itself, come when it may,
Can hardly change the quiet eye.
There’s meaning in its steady glance,
Of gentle blame or praising love,
That makes me tremble to advance
A word, that meaning might reprove.
The haughty threat, the fiery look,
My spirit proudly can defy,
But never yet could meet and brook
The upbraiding of a quiet eye.
There’s firmness in its even light,
That augurs of a breast sincere:
And, oh! take watch how ye excite
That firmness till it yield a tear.
Some bosoms give an easy sigh,
Some drops of grief will freely start,
But that which sears the quiet eye
Hath its deep fountain in the heart.
Review in Poem by Dexter
The sparkling diamond is polished,
The raw ore is equally precisious.
The charismatic and verbose personality,
No less pleasing that the silently strong.
To listen instead of talk,
To observe rather than judge.
The essence of honest worth,
Not diminished by attention.
The confident individual can shine,
Not Illuminating by extroverted impression, but action.
The flower that blooms does not have to be bright in colour,
The adoration of heart of mind reflected in dignity.
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