UNEXPRESSED
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eep 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.
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