The holiest of all holidays are those Kept by ourselves in silence and apart; The secret anniversaries of the heart, When the full river of feeling overflows;- The happy days unclouded to their close; The sudden joys that our of darkness start As flames from ashes; swift desires that dart Like swallows singing down each wind that blows!
Three silences there are: the first of speech, the second of desire, the third of thought.
The low desire, the base design That makes another's virtues less.
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