The Polariscope

I throw a day-beam of unbroken white
     Upon a crystalline film beneath my glass;
     It seemed a hueless, inorganic mass,
Yielding no image to my questioning sight;
Then on the field I turned prismatic light,
     And lo! A structural beauty to surpass
     The fairest forms on gem or graven brass,—
Translucent limning many-hued and bright!
What day’s pure beam had hidden, lay revealed
     In exquisite patterns by the broken ray!
Thus may the Heavens, in joy’s white light concealed.
     Grow visible when Grief asserts her sway,
     And through the big tear’s prism render clear
The forms of unseen things, & souls forever dear!