Beauty means this to one and that to the other.
And yet when anyone of us has seen that
which to him is beautiful he has known an emotion
which is in every case the same in kind.
A ship in sail
a blooming flower,
a town at night,
a lovely poem,
a child’s grace,
the starry1 skies,
apple trees in spring,
the thought of beauty,
these are the drops of rain
that keep the human spirit from death by draught2.
They are a stealing and a silent refreshment3
that we perhaps do not think about
but which goes on all the time.
Beauty is the smile on the earth’s face,
open to all,
and needs but the eyes to see,
mood to understand.