I keep within the shadow of my soul,
A radiant truth that none shall ever see;
Though silence plays its agonizing role,
My spirit longs to break its chains and flee.
My face remains a mask of marble stone,
While fires rage beneath the quiet skin;
I write thee letters, seated all alone,
Of solitude, where secret hopes begin.
Thou walkest through my garden unaware,
Where every rose blooms solely for thy grace;
This love, a phantom floating on the air,
Desires only to behold thy face.
Perchance the sun shall rise and shadows fall,
Revealing tears that I have kept from thee;
Until that hour, I heed the silent call,
And nurse a love that lives in mystery.
This piece echoes the Victorian sentiment that unrequited or unspoken love possesses a unique purity. It suggests that the beauty of affection sometimes lies not in its consummation, but in the quiet dignity of its concealment, waiting for the perfect moment to emerge from the shadows.
