Though you should weep as many years

As our great Father, when he sat

Uncomforted on Ararat—

This would not help you, and the tear

Which does not heal, will scald and sear.

What is your sorrow?”

Until now

I never had unveiled my woe—

Not that I shunned sweet sympathies,

Man’s words, or woman’s pitying eyes;

But that I felt they were in vain,

And could not help me—for the pain,

The wound which I was doomed to feel,

Man gave not, and he could not heal.

But in this old man’s speech and tone

Was something that allured me on:{17}

{17}

I told him all—I did not hide

My sin, my sorrow, or my pride:

I told him how, when I began

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