Classic Poem

It was as if myself sat down beside me,
And at last I could speak out to my dear friend,
And tell him, day after day, of the things that were reshaping me.

He was not afraid to hear my deepest secrets:
He was not shocked at my coarseness and trivialities:
He was prepared for my hours of weakness,—and exaltation.
Neither did he judge me by any one moment;
He knew it as a fragment of the impulse that bore me forward.

Yes, these songs were for myself.
But when they were finished, other selves desired them.

Are there still others who will sit close by and listen?

Is it you? Are you the new friend?
May all be told to you?