Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/322

284 I knew the mass of men concealed

Their thoughts, for fear that if revealed

They would by other men be met

With blank indifference, or with blame reproved;

I knew they lived and moved

Tricked in disguises, alien to the rest

Of men, and alien to themselves—and yet

The same heart beats in every human breast!

But we, my love! doth a like spell benumb

Our hearts, our voices? must we too be dumb?

Ah! well for us, if even we,

Even for a moment, can get free

Our heart, and have our lips unchained;

For that which seals them hath been deep-ordained!

Fate, which foresaw

How frivolous a baby man would be,—

By what distractions he would be possessed,

How he would pour himself in every strife,

And well-nigh change his own identity,—

That it might keep from his capricious play

His genuine self, and force him to obey

Even in his own despite his being's law,

Bade through the deep recesses of our breast

The unregarded river of our life

Pursue with indiscernible flow its way;

And that we should not see

The buried stream, and seem to be

Eddying at large in blind uncertainty,

Though driving on with it eternally.

But often, in the world's most crowded streets,

But often, in the din of strife,