Author Thomas Moore How oft a cloud, with envious veil, Obscures yon bashful light, Which seems so modestly to steal Along the waste of night! 'T is thus the world's obtrusive wrongs Obscure with malice keen Some timid heart, which only longs To live and die unseen. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments