REVEALED—NOT SPOKEN

The little maiden that I love, I met in yonder lane; A flood of sunshine seemed to fall Around her as she came. Methought the very hedgerows took A tenderer, livelier green, And blossoms burst from every bud As she passed on between! And gladder, madder, merrier notes A skylark round him threw, As high above her golden head, He poised amid the blue. I meant to tell her all my heart, And yet—I know not why, Upon the threshold of my lips The story seemed to die. It might have been the witchery, The magic of her smile, That in a spell held all my soul, And kept me dumb the while! It might have been that all too pure For earth-born love seemed she; From her white height of maidenhood How could she stoop to me? But eyes can prove more eloquent, And though the tongue may fail, In potent language they reveal The old, old tender tale. For, placing her slim hand in mine, Methought I heard my name So softly, murmurously breathed, I scarce knew whence it came! No need for words between us now; A subtle sweetness stole Through all our being, and we felt That soul had answered soul. And with the sunshine in our hearts, The bird’s song in our ears, We left the lane, my love and I, To meet the coming years.