Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
SecrecyG. O. Warren
D
Lonely I go, and, yearning, pause by each closed door.
They stand so blind, indifferent, while no sound,
No breath escapes to tell me of your more,
But there is one apart, close-barred and rusted in,
Shrouded by years, your hand has never moved
To open. Have you heaven in there, or sin?
Despairing, I return to this, and weep and lean….
Here terror of your hiding burns like fire,
The doubt of what will be—and what has been.