How do we Know?
How do we know, because a face
Looks grave, that one is sad?
How may we tell if witching grace
Covers a heart that's glad?
Looks grave, that one is sad?
How may we tell if witching grace
Covers a heart that's glad?
Because a face is wreathed in smiles,
Is that one always gay?
A demon may be in those wiles,
Or grief in mock array.
Is that one always gay?
A demon may be in those wiles,
Or grief in mock array.
Sometimes a manner cold and stern.
Conceals a tender heart,
That still for love and home doth yearn,
Whose wounds forever smart
Conceals a tender heart,
That still for love and home doth yearn,
Whose wounds forever smart
"She is so haughty," oft 'tis said:
Ah, well, they do not know
A living heart lies with the dead,
Her calmness hides her woe.
Ah, well, they do not know
A living heart lies with the dead,
Her calmness hides her woe.
How do we know the hearts of men
Unless we judge our own?
How can we have a knowledge, then,
Of those who strive alone?
Unless we judge our own?
How can we have a knowledge, then,
Of those who strive alone?
One may be bad, another good,
It's not for us to say.
Hearts slowly break in cheerful mood,
And drift out every day.
It's not for us to say.
Hearts slowly break in cheerful mood,
And drift out every day.
A human laugh in silver tones,
Oft greets the listening ear;
Hiding a tortured soul's deep groans,
That God alone can hear.
Oft greets the listening ear;
Hiding a tortured soul's deep groans,
That God alone can hear.
We have not time to watch the lives,
Or judge of human kind;
Enough for each who daily strives,
To faults of all be blind.
Or judge of human kind;
Enough for each who daily strives,
To faults of all be blind.
Not one of us but, when the day
Draws to its evening close,
Might better be in every way;
This, each one surely knows.
Draws to its evening close,
Might better be in every way;
This, each one surely knows.