 | Impressions of Italy and Other Poems |  |
165
MY TEARS ARE PRISONERS.
My tears are prisoners in my burning brain,
And were they loosened could they ease my pain—
Or half the anguish of my grief disclose—
No! tears were meant for lesser, lighter woes!
And were they loosened could they ease my pain—
Or half the anguish of my grief disclose—
No! tears were meant for lesser, lighter woes!
My thoughts by language unrevealed remain,
A heavy yoke they bear—a galling chain—
Why should they greet the careless and the cold,
And to the dull their treasure-depths unfold?
A heavy yoke they bear—a galling chain—
Why should they greet the careless and the cold,
And to the dull their treasure-depths unfold?
Why should they draw upon themselves the sneer
Of heartless apathy, or satire's jeer?
My hopes, too, hide and keep themselves apart—
'Tis well to make a deep world of the heart!
Of heartless apathy, or satire's jeer?
My hopes, too, hide and keep themselves apart—
'Tis well to make a deep world of the heart!
To shut it from the hollow world without;
To keep it pure from darkness and from doubt—
My tears! be still chained prisoners in my brain;
My heart! thy sorrows and thy hopes contain!
To keep it pure from darkness and from doubt—
My tears! be still chained prisoners in my brain;
My heart! thy sorrows and thy hopes contain!
| Impressions of Italy and Other Poems | |