Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803 - 1882 / Boston / United States)
Why should I keep holiday,
When other men have none?
Why but because when these are gay,
I sit and mourn alone.
And why when mirth unseals all tongues
Should mine alone be dumb?
Ah! late I spoke to silent throngs,
And now their hour is come.
Read poems about / on: alone
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