Don't Say It!

You were injured, I know

By the words that he spoke.

How they stung like the lash of a whip,

When he made you a fool

And the butt of a joke

For the sake of his blundering quip!

So fashion your speech

With a vengeance to more than repay it.

Tip your poisonous words

With a hate that is meant

To destroy and to kill . . . But don't say it!

You are angered, I see,

To be misunderstood,

And thus taken to task by your friend.

For the thing you had done

That was meant for his good

In the distant and ultimate end.

So plan your rebuke

And devise your retort,

And let no kindly impulse delay it.

Aim the shaft of your hate

For a blow to the heart

Of that stupid ingrate. . . But don't say it!

It was painful, I'm sure,

When they told you at length

You had failed in the task they'd assigned;

For I knew you had lent

every ounce of the strength

You could muster in body and mind.

So make your resentment

A weapon of spleen --

Two can play at this game.  Well, then, play it

And frame you a line

That is cutting and mean,

That is vengeful and harsh . . . But don't say it!

You are crushed, I perceive,

By a hard, cruel fate --

When your struggle's been fine and heroic

And you've borne all your cares

With a hope that could wait,

With a heart of a saint and a stoic.

So rebel at the task

And compose some harrangue

Of contempt for you destiny.  Flay it

With a screed that reveals

All the bitterest pang

Of a frustrated soul . . . But don't say it!

(Copyright, 1940)