 | The high-top sweeting And Other Poems |  |
80
SOME HEARTS GO HUNGERING.
Some hearts go hungering through the world,
And never find the love they seek;
Some lips with pride or scorn are curled
To hide the pain they may not speak.
The eye may flash, the mouth may smile,
The voice in gladdest music thrill,
And yet beneath them all the while
The hungry heart be pining still.
And never find the love they seek;
Some lips with pride or scorn are curled
To hide the pain they may not speak.
The eye may flash, the mouth may smile,
The voice in gladdest music thrill,
And yet beneath them all the while
The hungry heart be pining still.
These know their doom, and walk their way
With level steps and steadfast eyes,
Nor strive with Fate, nor weep, nor pray;
While others, not so sadly wise,
Are mocked by phantoms evermore,
And lured by seemings of delight
Fair to the eye, but at the core
Holding but bitter dust and blight.
With level steps and steadfast eyes,
Nor strive with Fate, nor weep, nor pray;
While others, not so sadly wise,
Are mocked by phantoms evermore,
And lured by seemings of delight
Fair to the eye, but at the core
Holding but bitter dust and blight.
I see them gaze from wistful eyes;
I mark their sign in fading cheeks;
I hear them breathe in smothered sighs,
And note the grief that never speaks.
For them no might redresses wrong,
No eye with pity is impearled.
O misconstrued and suffering long,
O hearts that hunger through the world!
I mark their sign in fading cheeks;
I hear them breathe in smothered sighs,
And note the grief that never speaks.
81
No eye with pity is impearled.
O misconstrued and suffering long,
O hearts that hunger through the world!
For you does life's dull desert hold
No fountained shade, no date-grove fair,
No gush of waters clear and cold,
But sandy reaches, wide and bare;
The foot may fail, the soul may faint,
And weigh to earth the weary frame;
But still ye make no weak complaint,
And speak no word of grief or blame.
No fountained shade, no date-grove fair,
No gush of waters clear and cold,
But sandy reaches, wide and bare;
The foot may fail, the soul may faint,
And weigh to earth the weary frame;
But still ye make no weak complaint,
And speak no word of grief or blame.
O eager eyes which gaze afar!
O arms which clasp the empty air!
Not all unmarked your sorrows are,
Not all unpitied your despair.
Smile, patient lips so proudly dumb,
When life's frail tent at last is furled,
Your glorious recompense shall come,
O hearts that hunger through the world!
O arms which clasp the empty air!
Not all unmarked your sorrows are,
Not all unpitied your despair.
Smile, patient lips so proudly dumb,
When life's frail tent at last is furled,
Your glorious recompense shall come,
O hearts that hunger through the world!
| The high-top sweeting And Other Poems | |