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...TWO SONNETS: 1 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE RAVEN; A CHRISTMAS TALE, TOLD BY A SCHOOL-BOY by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE WISTFUL DAYS by ROBERT UNDERWOOD JOHNSON THE RAVAGED VILLA by HERMAN MELVILLE PSALM 85 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE STRADA'S NIGHTINGALE by VINCENT BOURNE IRON HEEL by ANNE MILLAY BREMER |