UNEXPRESSED

Deep in my heart that aches with the repression,

And strives with plenitude of bitter pain,

There lives a thought that clamors for expression,

And spends its undelivered force in vain.

What boots it that some other may have thought it?

The right of thoughts’ expression is divine;

The price of pain I pay for it has bought it,

I care not who lays claim to it —‘ t is mine!

And yet not mine until it be delivered;

The manner of its birth shall prove the test.

Alas, alas, my rock of pride is shivered —

I beat my brow — the thought still unexpressed.