Veiled
If we could know the motive power,
The soul of word and deed;
And if companions of the hour
Each other's thoughts could read,
From some we trust
With strong disgust
We'd shrink, to see—revealed
Neath gracious smiles—
Old Satan wiles
The tyrant sceptre wield,
The soul of word and deed;
And if companions of the hour
Each other's thoughts could read,
From some we trust
With strong disgust
We'd shrink, to see—revealed
Neath gracious smiles—
Old Satan wiles
The tyrant sceptre wield,
And flattery's tongue would speak in vain
"False, false," would echoes ring;
Foul slander vainly seek to pain,
And poisoned arrows fling.
Each cruel dart
Would pierce the heart
Of him who drew the bow,
Each wicked lie
Would quickly die,
And bring the coward low.
"False, false," would echoes ring;
Foul slander vainly seek to pain,
And poisoned arrows fling.
Each cruel dart
Would pierce the heart
Of him who drew the bow,
Each wicked lie
Would quickly die,
And bring the coward low.
True friends would nearer, dearer be,
And soul with soul commune.
No discord in life's melody,
Naught mar its perfect tune.
A thoughtless deed
We would not heed,
And soul with soul commune.
No discord in life's melody,
Naught mar its perfect tune.
A thoughtless deed
We would not heed,
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