“Tell me not Now”

Tell me not now, if love for love Thou canst return,— Now while around us and above Day’s flambeaux burn. Not in clear noon, with speech as clear, Thy heart avow, For every gossip wind to hear; Tell me not now! Tell me not now the tidings sweet, The news divine; A little longer at thy feet Leave me to pine. I would not have the gadding bird Hear from his bough; Nay, though I famish for a word, Tell me not now! But when deep trances of delight All Nature seal; When round the world the arms of Night Caressing steal; When rose to dreaming rose says, “Dear, Dearest;” and when Heaven sighs her secret in Earth’s ear,— Ah, tell me then!