My father used to say,
"Superior people never make long visits,
have to be shown Longfellow's grave
nor the glass flowers at Harvard.
Self reliant like the cat --
that takes its prey to privacy,
the mouse's limp tail hanging like a shoelace from its mouth --
they sometimes enjoy solitude,
and can be robbed of speech
by speech which has delighted them.
The deepest feeling always shows itself in silence;
not in silence, but restraint."
Nor was he insincere in saying, "`Make my house your inn'."
Inns are not residences.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Silence by Marianne Moore )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
Did you read them?
- Sonnet.3. Our Home, Valsa George
- Dreaming Feelings, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Perfection is unattainable, Victor Cruickshank
- Sorry I came but I must come, Victor Cruickshank
- Accepting You, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- No Survivors, Victor Cruickshank
- Accumulation Of Essence, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- When, Victor Cruickshank
- Growth and Change, Victor Cruickshank
- A Class to Remember, Victor Cruickshank