 | Benoni |  |
132
THE MOURNER.
She dwelt deep-cloister'd in her heart,
And moved not lightly out from thence,
But ever trode the perfect part
Of mute and holy penitence:
And moved not lightly out from thence,
But ever trode the perfect part
Of mute and holy penitence:
Some fleeting sorrows faint may freeze
Their vulgar essence into words—
Some griefs may lull themselves to ease
In song, and die upon the chords,—
Their vulgar essence into words—
Some griefs may lull themselves to ease
In song, and die upon the chords,—
But hers was vaguely great and rare,
Within no narrow phase defined;
Was too intense and deep to bear
The thrall of limit or of kind:
Within no narrow phase defined;
Was too intense and deep to bear
The thrall of limit or of kind:
So wept she, as she did not weep,—
So spake, as though she had not spoken:
Only the bed where she did sleep
Knew that her heart was broken!
So spake, as though she had not spoken:
Only the bed where she did sleep
Knew that her heart was broken!
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