ఈ పుట ఆమోదించబడ్డది
I some times hold it half a sin
To put in words the grief I feel
For words, like Nature, half reveal
And half conceal the Soul within.
But, for the unquiet heart and brain,
A use in measured language lies:
The sad mechanic exercise,
Like dull narcotics, numbing pain.
In words like deeds, I'll wrap me o'er,
Like coarsest clothes against the cold:
But the large grief which these enfold
Is given in outline, and no more.
in memorium.
