Classic Poem

I LIVE a hidden life unguessed,
A life of quaint, fantastic schemes;
I dwell with flushed, romantic dreams
And freakish humours unconfessed,

Though I can show the world a mien
As cold as any judge's mask …
(The judge, too, lives beyond his task
And traffics with a realm unseen.) …

Behind the placid front of use
The baffled whims move to and fro;
We fear to let these genii go,
Their wings grotesque we dare not loose,

But sober-faced in church or mart,
In office, street, or drawing-room,
We carry cagèd to the tomb,
The golden nonsense of the heart.