Severe against the pleasant arc of sky
The great stone box is cruelly displayed.
The street becomes more dreary from its shade,
And vagrant breezes touch its walls and die.
Here sullen convicts in their chains might lie,
Or slaves toil dumbly at some dreary trade.
How worse than folly is their labor made
Who cleft the rocks that this might rise on high!
Yet, as I look, I see a woman’s face
Gleam from a window far above the street.
This is a house of homes, a sacred place,
By human passion made divinely sweet.
How all the building thrills with sudden grace
Beneath the magic of Love’s golden feet!
The strength and power of humanity, particularly the sweetness of a good woman’s face, is able to wear away the hardness of life – even turn a cold, stone, ugly structure into an inviting place. This is what children and men are looking to find at the end of the day – the essence of the human spirit longs for this comfort, peace, love, security, warmth ~ the soul of a good woman possesses this innate gift ~ a gift that creates life-time memories for those in her world. It is an art form, as surely as is a sculpture or painting.