Page:New Monthly 1825.pdf/12



say not that my heart is dead, For that my lip has learn’d A lesson from the lapse of time, Which it would once have spurn’d.

I must live with the false, the cold, And I must seem like them; And thought and feeling wear the mask That yet they most contemn.

Oh! say not that my words are false; They may not dare be true: What am I, that I should forsake The path which all pursue?

’Tis sad to see how all around To gilded idols kneel; And strive to be like one of those Who cannon think or feel.

Alas! alas! to pass in peace Through a world so chill, so lone, The throbbing pulses should be steel, And the heart should be stone!