862 and 864

So laugh at misery, then, who is lost,

who flits, unseen, from cause, to cause, to cause—

‘tis either tears for transparency’s cost,

or levity in spite of fated laws.

Go, filthy, to your mute community,

gored with not dirt, but with your loneliness.

Do something for those stupid souls you see,

who can’t see how you help them in your mess.

And nobody will know you. That is right—

do still with your most obstinate-set face,

set with a mirth-mocked happiness, and bright,

what nobody did for you in your case.

How much better the story, after all,

for you to smirk at Satan’s bitter gall?

~~~

It is our secret, not yours, peeking eye,

that looks and does not offer anything.

You may see something with the way you spy,

but won’t see truly with what naught you bring.

And what you don’t see! Ah! How vividly

its pleasure and its satisfying scene

would welcome you, if welcome you could be,

if anything to welcome you had been.

But you brought nothing but your greedy gaze,

wishing to know, but not to touch, nor taste.

You do not get to see past your own haze—

the mote that makes your spying such a waste.

You would not get it. Not unless you try.

You might, but you must use more than your eye.