Jeremy Carlisle speaks as a man confessing a long failure. He calls the worst sin “blindness of souls to other souls,” and admits he once lived with “lofty scorn” and “acrid skepticism.” The mood is penitent but not heavy—it turns toward wonder through the tintype image. Penniwit’s liquid makes a photograph hazy blue like hickory smoke, then the face slowly sharpens into life. That, he says, is how people he had ignored or disliked finally appeared to him: real, good, worth knowing. At the same time, his own face grew clearer to them. Mutual recognition becomes the great joy. By the end he imagines walking together and chanting the dawn, as if seeing each other truly has made life whole.
Jeremy Carlisle — Summary
Passer-by, sin beyond any sin Is the sin of blindness of souls to other souls. And joy beyond any joy is the joy Of having the good in you seen, and seeing the good At the miraculous moment! Here I confess to a lofty scorn, And an acrid skepticism. But do you remember the liquid that Penniwit Poured on tintypes making them blue With a mist like hickory smoke? Then how the picture began to clear Till the face came forth like life? So you appeared to me, neglected ones, And enemies too, as I went along With my face growing clearer to you as yours Grew clearer to me. We were ready then to walk together And sing in chorus and chant the dawn Of life that is wholly life.