 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith |  |
224
CONSTRAINT
I would not that another eye should seeWhat I now write, or other ear should hear.
Then wherefore do I write it, being clear
To me, unwrit? and oh the pain to me!
I hide my heart, and yet unbare it here,
Then hide what I have writ, and mean to burn;
I gather life's grey ashes in an urn,
And brood o'er them with many a dropping tear,
Dreading to keep, yet shrinking to destroy
The treasured relics. O my Love! my bliss!
Is it all ashes now, that infinite joy?
Leaving no other joy to me but this,
That I must open the old wound, and take
This blood from it, or else my heart will break.
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | |