In the noisy city, the speaker moves through crowds of strangers, catching brief eye contact before faces vanish. Those glances feel painfully revealing. She senses that behind each passing face is a hidden life, a “poor disguise” worn in public, and she feels ashamed and sad for having seen through it—as if she has stumbled onto secrets people didn’t mean to show. The “secrets rushing without sound” make the sorrow of all these strangers almost too heavy to bear. Then the poem turns inward: she wonders whether the people in the street can also see through her in the same way. The mood is melancholy and intimate, a mix of loneliness, empathy, and vulnerability. The city is crowded but offers no real connection, only fleeting moments of mutual recognition that leave the speaker overwhelmed.
Faces — Summary
People that I meet and pass In the city's broken roar, Faces that I lose so soon And have never found before,
Do you know how much you tell In the meeting of our eyes, How ashamed I am, and sad To have pierced your poor disguise?
Secrets rushing without sound Crying from your hiding places-- Let me go, I cannot bear The sorrow of the passing faces.
--People in the restless street, Can it be, oh can it be In the meeting of our eyes That you know as much of me?