Hand in Hand/To a Would-be Confidante

by Alice MacDonald Fleming

To a Would-be Confidante

I AM not fond of pity: if I weep
I do it secretly, as others pray.
My lips have jest and laughter for the day;
My eyes have tears while others' eyes have sleep.
Faint sympathy, that harvest many reap,
Gives me no comfort. Let me go my way,
I guess the kindly words your heart would say,
And thank you; but my secret's mine to keep.
One can wear smiles like jewels, clasp them fast,
Find pride and pleasure in their glittering.
Why should the shadow of my sorrowing
Darken your present with my hopeless past?
No, friend, the sun shines, therefore laugh and sing,
Neither glad day, nor night of tears will last.