John Boyle O'Reilly
Under The Surface - Poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
AY, smile as you will, with your saintly face!
But I know the line
Of your guard is as weak as a maze of lace:
You may give no sign—
And the devil is never far to seek,
And a rotten peach has a lovely cheek.
As they come in the stream, I say to you:
The lives we jostle are none of them true.
Who seeks with a lamp and glass may find
A nature of honor from core to rind;
But woe to the heart that is formed so true:
It may not reck, and it still must rue
The perjured lip and the bleeding vow.
God keep it blind to the things we know—
To the ghastly scars for the leech's eyes
And the occult lore of the worldly wise.
Comments about Under The Surface by John Boyle O'Reilly
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You