THE POEMS OF N. P. GRAHAM (1895-1920)

	–~–~– His Eyes were Globes –~–~–
	HIS eyes were globes of limpid light, Like silver fired that shine Through darkness on a frosty night, Their (lustre) seeking mine. They had an air of radiance My mind could not explain, A kind of haunting brilliance Like fragrance after rain. He had found "truth", he simply said, As though it might have been The latest cure for aching head Or tonic for the spleen. Something about him gripped my gaze – His quiet mode of speech – The miracles of olden days Seemed well within his reach. "We are all dead men – every one, But life is in us all . . ."

Something about him gripped my gaze.

–~–~– His Eyes were Globes –~–~–

Above illustration by Estella Bessie Graham, 1920 >

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