It hooks me on that one close word, that true -
What, true because in saying so it is?
For truth too oft repeated sounds less true.
The ring of truth, then, in my ear is mute.
Then seek that longed-for ring from close-kept thoughts:
In single mindedness a double heart
Is sound. A wand’ring eye will come to naught -
But this thought, too, will satisfy no heart
That cannot beat inside its lover’s mind
And read the thinking there. It is an art
Long looked for, longer vexing all mankind.
So where is truth if not in thought or tongue -
In constancy of deed?- oh vex no more
This unlov’d writer’s pen – I am not young
Yet never loved if this check is looked for.
Thus have I proved my heart not truly his.
Yet stubbornly, my heart still thrums: it is.