On Strangers

I'll never know hearts of them,
What I'll tell
Unto myself and thee of I should lie,
And crown your name with heaven
When you are hell
And fly some underhand witchery;
Spice and spells?
Tell me, small voices of the heart,
whisper the low
Silences said, by intuition ,all it know
Is truth the deep
- Awake us now and them from sleep.
And hearing your noise above the sky;
The whisper-wind,
Of ear and soul. They have,
For thee an open place.

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