Hidden.

Oft the heart is full of weeping When no tears escape the lids; Bravely will stands guard o’er feeling And the tell-tale flow forbids, And for love of those who love us Every sign of sorrow hides, Counterfeiting joy and gladness Where in secret, grief abides. Though we try to gild with sunshine Thorny paths we needs must tread, Hiding, ’neath a show of courage, That we go with shrinking dread— Tho’ we hush the sob of mourning For the strong true love we knew, Yet affection’s sacred altar With forget-me-nots we strew. Every sentient heart holds hidden, From the gaze of prying eyes, All its sorrows. E’en its raptures From such sharing it denies. Love of some and dread of others Shut the heart with bolts and bars; We shrink to wound our loving dear ones— We dread the sympathy that jars. But, when night is darkly brooding Over earth with raven wings, Feeling may, with unseen fingers, Sweep the spirit’s trembling strings. Then, within its secret chamber, May the heart’s own words be said— There alone, with Love’s one taper, All its bitter tears may shed.