The Hidden Scar (Poem by Edwin John Dove Pratt)

The Hidden Scar

By Edwin John Dove Pratt

No blow, no threat, no movement of the hand.

    No word burst from the leash of calm control,

Betraying passions slumbering in the soul;

But friendship's added years could not withstand

A curve that rose unbidden and unplanned

    From the flexed silence of the lips — a dart

    That struck, rending the texture of the heart,

And, entering deeper, seared like a brand.

Some years have passed. To-day, no lure of mine

    Restores the confidence he gave of old;

    The outer court of strangers with its forms

Of soulless exchange — there we meet. The shrine

    Within where sacred fires once burned is cold,

    And love no more the ashen altar warms.