And it was strange you would not let me speak The words. They grew to be so heavy-mute, Perhaps they wore devotion thin. The bleak Day when you spoke, I, newly destitute Of love, found affluence in hoarded speech Worth less than nothing spent, and priceless kept. Those words could never pay my debt: in reach Are others you, with tolerance, accept. Your voice tore off the shabby robe, belief, And undergarments of humility. Better than hooded innocence or silken grief Is the unpurchased gift you leave with me. Untouchable, though bare to every glance, I stand, my lips awry with arrogance. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RETURN (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DAT GAL O' MINE by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON AND SO, I THINK DIOGENES by AMY LOWELL BONNYBELL: THE BUTTERFLY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS YOUNG BULLFROGS by CARL SANDBURG |