Yeats speaks to a friend whose work has come to nothing, and his advice is both fierce and tender. Since the truth is already out, he says, accept the defeat quietly. The opponent is brazen—loud, shameless, willing to lie without embarrassment. A person bred to honour cannot compete with that. Instead, the friend should turn away and be like a string that “laughs” even as mad fingers play it in a stony place: resilient, inwardly alive, not broken by a harsh world. The final lines sharpen the challenge: to be secret and exult is the hardest thing of all. The mood is proud, stoic, a little bitter, but also consoling. It turns public failure into a test of inner dignity.
To a Friend Whose Work Has Come to Nothing — Summary
Now all the truth is out, Be secret and take defeat From any brazen throat, For how can you compete, Being honour bred, with one Who, were it proved he lies, Were neither shamed in his own Nor in his neighbours' eyes? Bred to a harder thing Than Triumph, turn away And like a laughing string Whereon mad fingers play Amid a place of stone, Be secret and exult, Because of all things known That is most difficult.