Lovers

Oh, what does the night-wind say to the rose?
Alas, there is never a heart that knows!
Oh, what does the nightingale there in the brake
Sing to his love, as he sings for her sake?

Be glad there is never an ear to discover —
O sweet wind-lover, O sweet bird-lover!
Your secret is safe, as mine own shall be
When the lips that I love have breathed it to me.