The mocking promise of power is once more broken in performance,
And they stand impotent of words, travailing with unborn thoughts;
Courage is cowed at the portal; wisdom is widowed of utterance;
He that went to comfort is pitied; he that should rebuke, is silent:
And fools who might listen and learn, stand by to look and laugh;
While friends, with kinder eyes, wound deeper by compassion:
And thought, finding not a vent, smouldereth, gnawing at the heart,
And the man sinketh in his sphere, for lack of empty sounds.
There be many cares and sorrows thou hast not yet considered,
And well may thy soul rejoice in the fair privilege of speech;