Study this stranger’s face, impassive, free of care.
See how an unfeigned grimace briefly crosses there
and opens for an instant on a hidden pain
unnoticed by the passers-by; and shuts again.
My words, you tell my secret hurt: the raging gale
which buffets in my heart. But you are doomed to fail.
The deeper truth emerges when complainings cease.
The song which yields to sobbing is a song of peace.