I sometimes 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 measured language lie's
The sad mechanic exercise
Like dull narcotic's, numbing pain
In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er
Like coarsest clothes against the cold
But large grief which these enfold
Is given in outline and no more.
