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| Inner Lake |
By the shallowness of thy inner lake Thy silt doth disturb most easily Thy rippled surface, wind-blown unsmooth Never conceal thy spikes of fury within When flesh doth rend and split its seam Thy trueness of self in bitter display Thy weakness, and piteous, hideous core Shown true for thy utter, blissful contempt Sorrowful self! What hath rendered it so? What mode of filth to such an end? With putridity of mind, let it be an act And thy sorrows are shown beleaguered Not one, but all, in haste overcome But thy unwillingness doth stain the soul |