work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context 6162,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-10-23 00:00:00 UTC,"'Twere vain to paint to what his feelings grew--
It even were doubtful if their victim knew.
There is a war, a chaos of the mind,
When all its elements convulsed, combined
Lie dark and jarring with perturbéd force,
And gnashing with impenitent Remorse--
That juggling fiend, who never spake before,
But cries ""I warned thee!"" when the deed is o'er.
Vain voice! the spirit burning but unbent,
May writhe--rebel--the weak alone repent!
Even in that lonely hour when most it feels,
And, to itself, all--all that self reveals,--
No single passion, and no ruling thought
That leaves the rest, as once, unseen, unsought,
But the wild prospect when the Soul reviews,
All rushing through their thousand avenues--
Ambition's dreams expiring, Love's regret,
Endangered Glory, Life itself beset;
The joy untasted, the contempt or hate
'Gainst those who fain would triumph in our fate;
The hopeless past, the hasting future driven
Too quickly on to guess if Hell or Heaven;
Deeds--thoughts--and words, perhaps remembered not
So keenly till that hour, but ne'er forgot;
Things light or lovely in their acted time,
But now to stern Reflection each a crime;
The withering sense of Evil unrevealed,
Not cankering less because the more concealed;
All, in a word, from which all eyes must start,
That opening sepulchre, the naked heart
Bares with its buried woes--till Pride awake,
To snatch the mirror from the soul, and break.

Aye, Pride can veil, and Courage brave it all--
All--all--before--beyond--the deadliest fall.
Each hath some fear, and he who least betrays,
The only hypocrite deserving praise:
Not the loud recreant wretch who boasts and flies;
But he who looks on Death--and silent dies:
So, steeled by pondering o'er his far career,
He half-way meets Him should He menace near!",,16242,•I've included twice: Mirror and Sepuchre,"""All, in a word, from which all eyes must start, / That opening sepulchre, the naked heart / Bares with its buried woes--till Pride awake, / To snatch the mirror from the soul, and break.""","",2009-09-14 19:46:09 UTC,Stanza X