Restraint

Beauty unacknowledged by itself
Is as a canvas covered by a sheet,
An untouched sculpture sitting on a shelf,
A sheaf of papers folded in a neat
Pile that sits unread, and yet preserved:
They do not lose their value as they wait,
And yet although they may be undisturbed
There's something sad within their patient state.
Their use would be a blessing, one might think,
To turn unvalued virtue towards the good,
And make at last that beneficial link
Between what has been done and what yet should.
But thinking so imagines that that use
Will not be turned into a sad abuse.