Walter Murdoch (1874–1970). The Oxford Book of Australasian Verse. 1918.
By James Lionel Michael5 . The Eye of the Beholder
I
The waters of Pactolus roll’d
Over a sand of shifting gold;
As those that charm the child so much,
With jewels growing ’neath their touch;
There lies a secret pleasant cheat,
That turns to beauty all we meet;
In the first love of youth combine
To make its object seem divine.
No jewel glittering for ever,
No wine-born vision’s melting quiver,
With that which we ourselves prepare
To throw round that we fancy fair.
In golden beams of suns that set
On cupola and minaret.
In silver light of moons that rise
O’er lonely lakes ’neath tropic skies.
There ’s nothing half so fair on earth,
As that to which the heart gives birth:
But that which my own soul hath made,
To my conception, knows no shade.
To every heart from heaven above
Is sent a beauty born of love.
It is the eye which looks on these
That makes the loveliness it sees.
Out of myself the beauty flows
That decks the petals of the rose.
And saw her glorious as the day,
’Twas my own heart that lent the ray.