126
I scorn this hated scene
Of masking and disguise,
Where men on men still gleam,
With falseness in their eyes;
Where all is counterfeit,
And truth hath never say;
Where hearts themselves do cheat,
Concealing hope's decay.
And writhing at the stake,
Themselves do liars make.
Go, search thy heart, poor fool!
And mark its passions well;
'Twere time to go to school,—
'Twere time the truth to tell,—
'Twere time this world should cast
Its infant slough away,
And hearts burst forth at last
Into the light of day;—
'Twere time all learned to be
Fit for Eternity!
