What prison Is the heart? A fastness Of self-- Or selflessness? A rock Whose only words Are hard, Harsh hatred And despair? Or a glowing Fire, from Which radiates Gentle warmth, Concern and care? Within the heart Wail uncountable, Ceaseless calls, For whose cries No ears Ever are. How can Love, That sweetest, Best sensation, Burn so keen, So sharp As the most Potent acid? Love unexpressed Beats like A storm-tossed sea Against the un- Yielding rock Of the rigid heart. Love proclaimed Soars like the gull Through skies Of purest azure, To enfold And warm both Giver and given.
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