I KNOW not if a keener smart Can come to finer souls than his Who hears men praise him, mind or heart, For something higher than he is. Who fain would say, "Behold me, friends, That which I am, not what you deem, A thing of low and narrow ends, Sordid, not golden as I seem. See here the hidden blot of shame, The weak thought that you take for strong, The brain too dull to merit fame, The faint and imitative song." But dares not, least discovery foul Not his name only, but degrade Heights closed but to the soaring soul, Names which scorn trembles to invade; And doth his inner self conceal From all men in his own despite, Hiding what he would fain reveal, And a most innocent hypocrite. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BENEDICTION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON FAITH by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON JOY (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON PEACE (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO EMILIE BIGELOW HAPGOOD - PHILANTHROPIST by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 5. THE DANCING GIRL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |