Published February 9, 2007
Forever to thine eyes they soul shall plead
Until the stars of heaven murder dark
And thus 'til death they wounds of labor bleed
And thou shalt heal whenst thine ears do hark
Thy love doth shine upon thine stoic face
An up-turned arc of joy, shouldst it provoke
But naught, thine stolid countenance keeps pace
Now wishest me that thy shouldst not have spoke
When finally comesthe day that thou shouldst see
Thy feelings, harbored under spirit cold
Thine answer late shall long outlive thy plea
And thy true heart to someone, hast been sold
In thine dankest cellar thou shalt weep
For thou hast hidden from thy feelings deep
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