UNDER
'Tis well to learn to read between the lines,
For there, ofttimes, the meaning true, is hid;
As in light conversation, we may bid
Our deep emotions—lest by surface signs
They show themselves—to hide, as if 'twere shame
To be possessed of feelings of more worth;
So, 'neath the mask of an assumed mirth
The soul hides its face, with meaning aflame.
For there, ofttimes, the meaning true, is hid;
As in light conversation, we may bid
Our deep emotions—lest by surface signs
They show themselves—to hide, as if 'twere shame
To be possessed of feelings of more worth;
So, 'neath the mask of an assumed mirth
The soul hides its face, with meaning aflame.
A word imperfectly must echo Thought;
Thought may be traveling with perfect ease
Beneath the world of words, and one who sees
The surface calm, sees not what has been wrought
Of Silence, on the fabric of that brain;
What rare designs which words cannot disclose;
So little all our outward living shows
Of what our hearts and inner lives contain!
Thought may be traveling with perfect ease
Beneath the world of words, and one who sees
The surface calm, sees not what has been wrought
Of Silence, on the fabric of that brain;
What rare designs which words cannot disclose;
So little all our outward living shows
Of what our hearts and inner lives contain!
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