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Not Understood

Not Understood, we move along asunder,
Our paths grow wider as the seasons creep
Along the years. We marvel and we wonder
Why life is life - and then we fall asleep,
Not Understood.

Not Understood, we gather false impressions,
And hug them closer as the years go by,
Till virtues often seem to us transgressions;
And thus men rise and fall - and live and die,
Not Understood.

Not Understood, poor souls with stunded visions,
Often measure giants by their narrow guage;
The poisened shafts of falsehood and derision
Are oft-impelled 'gainst those who mould the age,
Not Understood.

Not Understood, the secret springs of action,
which lie beneath the surface and the show
Are disregarded; with self-satisfaction
We judge our neighbours, and they often go
Not Understood.

Not Understood, how trifles often change us,
The thoughtles sentane or the fancied slight
Destroy long years of friendship and estrange us,
And on our souls there falls a freezing blight,
Not Understood.

Not Understood, how many hearts are aching
For lack of sympathy! Ah Day by Day
How many cheerless, lonely hearts are breaking,
How many noble spirits pass away
Not Understood.

Oh, God! That men would see a little clearer,
Or Judge less hardly when they cannot see!
Oh God! That men would draw a little nearer
To one another; They'd be nearer thee,
And Understood.

Thomas Brachen


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