The Secret

SHE could not whisper one least word;
Too many listeners hovered nigh;
But, though her dear lips never stirred,

I well could read her speechful eye:

And now with stealthy step I come

And seek thy shades, thou darkling grove!

Here will I build my hermit-home,
Here veil from prying eyes my love.

The city's voice of many tones

Resoundeth in the sweltering Day;
Wheels roll, as 'twere, o'er muffled stones,

And far-off hammers faintly bray:
So wring the o'er anxious Crowd with toil

From Earth's hard breast their bitter bread,
"While blessings flow from Heaven like oil

On each serene Believer's head!

Yet, breathe it not, what holy joy,

What bliss in Love and Faith may be;
The world will mock thee, and destroy

The inmost Life of Heaven in thee!
Not in thy words, not on thy brow,

Should glow the soul of thy desire;
Deep in thy heart's recesses thou

Must feed, unseen, the Sacred Fire.

Flee where nor Light nor Man intrudes!

Love lives for Night and Silentness;
Love's dearest haunts are Solitudes

Where sandalled feet tall echoless.
Love's home is in the Land of Dream,

For, there, through Truth's eternal power,
Its life is glassed in every stream,

And symbolized by every flower!