I hardly know myself all day; I go about in the marketplace . . . A silver mask across my face. (For time lies heavily away from you.) I do the things that others do: Stop to price a diamond ring And listen to a beggar sing; Then shop a while and pause for tea . . . And wonder why they stare at me. They cannot see the mask I wear; My dress is just a plain affair Of white against the darkness Of my skin. (Perhaps this rose . . . But, ah, none other knows It came from you.) I hear fragments of their talk And faster, faster I must walk Away from ugly horrid things . . . Biting words and looks that sting. How good it feels to reach my room And know that naught of city gloom Can touch me here. I shed My mask upon the bed And greet my pictures on the walls; Then this hated raiment falls, Like forgotten rhythms, on the floor. Thus I stand (while night comes down Across the roofs and towers of town) Gowned in moonlight, cool and blue. Are others like me sleepless too? I cannot close my eyes at night . . . I wear a silver mask by day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ROSE-BUD; TO A YOUNG LADY by WILLIAM BROOME SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 6 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE FARM CHILD'S LULLABY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR INVERSNAID by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS THE LAMP [LAMPE] by HENRY VAUGHAN THE FEILIRE OF ADAMNAN by ADAMNAN |