[Editor: This poem by Agnes L. Storrie was published in Poems, 1909.]
Hidden Deeps.
Every man in the deep of his heart
Knows of a secret sin,
That taps at the door of his meanest self,
And seeketh a home therein.
That lingers about with a luring smile,
And, oust it howe’er he may,
Leaveth a taint on his inmost thought,
And returneth another day.
Every man, in the deep of his heart,
Hideth a secret grave,
Where heth himself as he meant to be.
Over it wild winds rave,
And moan in the hush of the starless night,
When ghosts are quick in the gloom,
And he steals away from the haunts of men
To watch by that nameless tomb.
Every man in the deep of his heart
Nurseth a feeble spark,
That flickers and fails as the drear winds blow,
Yet always survives the dark;
And if he will shield it with steady hand,
Though nearer the storm-clouds roll,
It will gather strength, till it shines at last
A star to his passing soul.
Source:
Agnes L. Storrie. Poems, J. W. Kettlewell, Sydney, 1909, pages 232-233
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