[My songs remain unheard]


My songs remain unheard
Like footsteps in the snow --
My verse as if no word
Would chance be spoken --

My paintings yet unseen --
I care not that be so --
My spirit — ever-green — 
Unbroken. 





[None can tell the human heart]


None can tell the human heart --
It never will be known --
A land with neither map nor chart --
You must explore alone.

Some say it is a wilderness --
Though some say otherwise:
Not dark nor drear but luminous --
Like love in mother's eyes.





[A word is but a silhouette] 


A word is but a silhouette --
It says a part but not the whole --
And, too, a shadow -- given name --
Denies description of a soul. 

But words and names are all we have --
And so to use them -- well -- we try --
To spell the temper of a thing --
And tell the sparkle of an eye.