Within the Veil

        The holiest thoughts are secret thoughts;
They shun the homestead[?] and the mart;
        Not where the gaping crowd resorts
We breathe the worship of the heart.

A murmured syllable of love
        Behind a dark or golden tress,—
Soft as the cooing of a dove,—
        Tells more than loudest tongues express.

In darkness, to no ??? ear,
        Discounts the love-lorn nightingale,
But sinks to silence if she hear
        Invaders of her lovely vale.

So maiden dreams shrinks back afraid
        If one but dream that they are queir’d[?]
By every timid blush betrayed,
        And flutter of the trobbing breast.

Young Lovers in the dappled shade
        Of moonlit groves, with God alone
For witness, breathe confessions made
        In moods to garish day unknown.

A mother’s deepest love is mute,
        Seen only in a smile or tear,
Or all unseen when hopes dispute
        Their empire with her silent fear!

        The wife who feeds a secret plame
At love’s now thrive, hath ???
        Too wholly sacred even to name—
And hopes a-tremble with their ???

Earth’s holiest alter-fire burns pure
        On household hearths, where kindred loves,
In sacred privacy secure,
        Are nestled close, like brooded doves.

Be far away the mousing eye,
        The ear alert for things forbid’n,
And all that dare profanely pry
        Into the secret Home hath hid’n!

The tie that binds us heart to heart
        Funs deeper than this flesh, I ween,
And wrapt from all the world apart
        We live out truest lives unseen.