Poems (Hoffman)/Broken Hearts

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BROKEN HEARTS.
They beat beneath lace, jewels, flowers,Fit decorations of their bier;But none will stop to drop a tear,Or watch through all the weary hours.
Or 'neath the cheapest garb they throb,Their onward march to death and rest;For night will come and it is bestFor smothered sigh and stifled sob.
O do not scoff! If we could knowThe sweetest faces that we meetSmile above human hearts that beatSad minor strains in vespers low.
Hush, careless laugh and cruel jest,Twine Sympathy's sweet flowers with Mirth;Pray for the broken hearts of earth,Deep buried in a faithful breast.
That broken harp that still sounds sweet,Through night and storm, Hope's gladsome chords;For wounded valor Earth hath words,For this, the silence of defeat.
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