95. THE PRECEPT OF SILENCE

I know you: solitary griefs,

Desolate passions, aching hours!

I know you: tremulous beliefs,

Agonised hopes, and ashen flowers!

The winds are sometimes sad to me;

The starry spaces, full of fear:

Mine is the sorrow on the sea,

And mine the sigh of places drear.

Some players upon plaintive strings

Publish their wistfulness abroad:

I have not spoken of these things,

Save to one man, and unto God.

_Lionel Johnson._

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