Self-Congratulation

Ellen, you were thoughtless once
⁠Of beauty or of grace,
Simple and homely in attire,
⁠Careless of form and face;
Then whence this change? and wherefore now
⁠So often smooth your hair?
And wherefore deck your youthful form
⁠With such unwearied care?

Tell us—and cease to tire our ears
⁠With that familiar strain—
Why will you play those simple tunes
⁠So often, o'er again?
"Indeed, dear friends, I can but say
⁠That childhood's thoughts are gone;
Each yеar its own new feelings brings,
⁠And years move swiftly on:

"And for thеse little simple airs—
⁠I love to play them o'er
So much—I dare not promise, now,
⁠To play them never more."
I answered—and it was enough;
⁠They turned them to depart;
They could not read my secret thoughts,
⁠Nor see my throbbing heart.

I've noticed many a youthful form,
⁠Upon whose changeful face
The inmost workings of the soul
⁠The gazer well might trace;
The speaking eye, the changing lip,
⁠The ready blushing cheek,
The smiling, or beclouded brow,
⁠Their different feelings speak.

But, thank God! you might gaze on mine
⁠For hours, and never know
The secret changes of my soul
⁠From joy to keenest woe.
Last night, as we sat round the fire
⁠Conversing merrily,
We heard, without, approaching steps
⁠Of one well known to me!

There was no trembling in my voice,
⁠No blush upon my cheek,
No lustrous sparkle in my eyes,
⁠Of hope, or joy, to speak;
But, oh! my spirit burned within,
⁠My heart beat full and fast!
He came not nigh—he went away—
⁠And then my joy was past.

And yet my comrades marked it not:
⁠My voice was still the same;
They saw me smile, and o'er my face
⁠No signs of sadness came.
They little knew my hidden thoughts;
⁠And they will never know
The aching anguish of my heart,
⁠The bitter burning woe!