Quiet

I see your face and want to scream in pain

I wear no mask but hope ‘gainst hope in vain

In truth it is my fate to die my friend

And when dawn breaks I’ll climb the hill again

And may not my melancholic aspect

within the warm fool’s heart detect

A grievous sin not spoken of outdoors

But rather hushed with whispered weight implored

Have trust my arrows pose no harm to ye

instead they are but messengers that plead

You’ll consent my cold despair be hidden

And count not twice the miles ‘mong us ridden

And leave not ones you love with cold reply

For in the morn the frost returns tongue tied