song.
I may seem happy—who may know
The heart's deep-treasured grief?
The leaves conceal the bended bough,
And silence brings relief,
The heart's deep-treasured grief?
The leaves conceal the bended bough,
And silence brings relief,
I may seem happy—careless, free,
And joyous as the throng;
I sound no tale of misery,
Nor tell of voiceless wrong.
And joyous as the throng;
I sound no tale of misery,
Nor tell of voiceless wrong.
I may seem happy—though the tear
Befits this eyelid best;
You think me joyous, yet each fear
Belies each hope of rest.
Befits this eyelid best;
You think me joyous, yet each fear
Belies each hope of rest.
I may seem happy—it is well;
For who would care to know
What this scared lip may never tell
Of all its hidden woe?
For who would care to know
What this scared lip may never tell
Of all its hidden woe?
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