Secrets

When I was young I used to think.
That every eye peered through a chink,
And every man was hid behind
His own thick self where none could find.

That every woman in the street,
Looking fair and smiling sweet,
Was maybe hiding thoughts that were
Not quite so sweet, nor quite so fair
As her kind smile and blossom face;
She hived in some forgotten place
Within herself and could not bear
That any man should see her there.

And though I'm older still I see
In every face a mystery.

The Hill of Vision [1912]