DEAR are some hidden things My soul has sealed in silence; past delights; Hope unconfessed; desires with hampered wings, Remembered in the nights. But my best treasures are Ignoble, undelightful, abject, cold; Yet O! profounder hoards oracular No reliquaries hold. There lie my trespasses, Abjured but not disowned. I'll not accuse Determinism, nor, as the Master says, Charge even "the poor Deuce." Under my hand they lie, My very own, my proved iniquities; And though the glory of my life go by I hold and garner these. How else, how otherwhere, How otherwise, shall I discern and grope For lowliness? How hate, how love, how dare, How weep, how hope? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE FISHER'S BOY by HENRY DAVID THOREAU OF A FAIR LADY PLAYING WITH A SNAKE by EDMUND WALLER PHILOSOPHIES by MADELEINE AARON LILIES: 7. BEHIND by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THE VISION OF SPRING, 1916 by HENRY HOWARTH BASHFORD PSALM 150 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 3 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |