<h2><SPAN name="page87"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>IN THE CROWD</h2>
<p class="poetry">How happy they are, in all seeming,<br/>
How gay, or how smilingly proud,<br/>
How brightly their faces are beaming,<br/>
These people who make up the crowd!<br/>
How they bow, how they bend, how they flutter,<br/>
How they look at each other and smile,<br/>
How they glow, and what <i>bon mots</i> they utter!<br/>
But a strange thought has found me the while!</p>
<p class="poetry">It is odd, but I stand here and fancy<br/>
These people who now play a part,<br/>
All forced by some strange necromancy<br/>
To speak, and to act, from the heart.<br/>
What a hush would come over the laughter!<br/>
What a silence would fall on the mirth!<br/>
And then what a wail would sweep after,<br/>
As the night-wind sweeps over the earth!</p>
<p class="poetry"><SPAN name="page88"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">p.
88</span>If the secrets held under and hidden<br/>
In the intricate hearts of the crowd<br/>
Were suddenly called to, and bidden<br/>
To rise up and cry out aloud,<br/>
How strange one would look to another!<br/>
Old friends of long standing and years—<br/>
Own brothers would not know each other,<br/>
Robed new in their sorrows and fears.</p>
<p class="poetry">From broadcloth, and velvet, and laces,<br/>
Would echo the groans of despair,<br/>
And there would be blanching of faces<br/>
And wringing of hands and of hair.<br/>
That man with his record of honour,<br/>
That lady down there with the rose,<br/>
That girl with Spring’s freshness upon her,<br/>
Who knoweth the secrets of those?</p>
<p class="poetry">Smile on, O ye maskers, smile sweetly!<br/>
Step lightly, bow low and laugh loud!<br/>
Though the world is deceived and completely,<br/>
I know ye, O sad-hearted crowd!<br/>
I watch you with infinite pity:<br/>
But play on, play ever your part,<br/>
Be gleeful, be joyful, be witty!<br/>
’Tis better than showing the heart.</p>
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