Sara Teasdale — Faces

People that I meet and pass        &nbsp In the city's broken roar, Faces that I lose so soon        &nbsp And have never found before, Do you know how much you tell        &nbsp In the meeting of our eyes, How ashamed I am, and sad        &nbsp To have pierced your poor disguise? Secrets rushing without sound        &nbsp Crying from your hiding places— Let me go, I cannot bear        &nbsp The sorrow of the passing faces. —People in the restless street,        &nbsp Can it be, oh can it be In the meeting of our eyes        &nbsp That you know as much of me?