 | The bird and the bell, with other poems |  |
231
TO A HALF-FRIEND.
How well I know the secret spell to turn
Your best good-will to me,—
The delicate untruth could I but learn
Of well-bred flattery.
Your best good-will to me,—
The delicate untruth could I but learn
Of well-bred flattery.
Just to o'erstep the plain sincerity
Of friend to friend, no more;
Only to hint, “Your truth is truth to me,
No higher and no lower”;
Of friend to friend, no more;
Only to hint, “Your truth is truth to me,
No higher and no lower”;
Seeming to prize your quality and gift,
Though not on praise intent,
But on the current of our talk to drift
Into a smooth assent;
Though not on praise intent,
But on the current of our talk to drift
Into a smooth assent;
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To accept without demur or differing eyes
The half-truth of your thought,
And hide my protest in a compromise
By dumb good-nature taught;
The half-truth of your thought,
And hide my protest in a compromise
By dumb good-nature taught;
To linger on your chosen plot of ground,
As if I too would choose it;
To know a richer realm lies all around
Your fence, and yet refuse it;
As if I too would choose it;
To know a richer realm lies all around
Your fence, and yet refuse it;
To fear to disagree, though what you say
Savors of sect and clan;
My fortress of conviction to betray
And yield life's cherished plan;
Savors of sect and clan;
My fortress of conviction to betray
And yield life's cherished plan;
To slight the solemn conscience pressing down
Upon my private faith;
To wear the decorous fashion of the town;
To hear some shadowy wraith,
Upon my private faith;
To wear the decorous fashion of the town;
To hear some shadowy wraith,
Instead of what I know to be myself,
Utter opinions squared
To social rules,—a poor, unreal elf
Consenting to be snared,
Utter opinions squared
To social rules,—a poor, unreal elf
Consenting to be snared,
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And playing out a graceful pantomime
Where earnest words are naught,
To catch the easy plaudits of the time,
But hide my dearest thought;—
Where earnest words are naught,
To catch the easy plaudits of the time,
But hide my dearest thought;—
Thus might I win you soon to be my friend,
Now half a friend at best.
Yet none would say I flattered. I but send
Some fractious thoughts to rest.
Now half a friend at best.
Yet none would say I flattered. I but send
Some fractious thoughts to rest.
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