Poems (Whitney)/Seaside
SEASIDE.
Go wear your tortured smile; speak and say nought; Be laughed at by your diamonds—I preferMy light, loose garb—freedom of face and thought, And this uncompromising thunderer.
What do I where you mince and compliment, And meet to hide the better, and denyThe deeper life within you?—I was sent To live at least in simple verity.
For your poor, famished lives of ostentation, What victims bleed of which you never recked!The yearning heart of love—the aspiration Which makes us royal, the sweet self-respect.
But ah! I know the lonely hour will find you Sincere once more; to-night doth sadness waitTo fold you in her purple, and remind you Of your dead strength, your regal, lost estate.