In Memoriam A. H. H.: 5. Sometimes I Hold It Half a Sin

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