I will put my two hands on my mouth, to hush
The words that, when I see you, to it rush.
I will put my two hands on mine eyes, lest you
Should in them find what I were fain you knew.
I will put them on my bosom, to conceal
That which might seem the desperate heart's appeal.
And I will put them gently into yours,
My two hands sick with grief that long endures....
And they shall come full of their tenderness,
Most silently, and even with no caress,
With the whole burden of a secret broken,
Of which my mouth, eyes, heart had gladly spoken.
Tired of being empty they to you shall come,
Heavy with sadness, sad with being dumb;
So desolate, discouraged, pale and frail,
That you may bend, perhaps, and see they ail!...