Unspoken
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|
MY lover comes down the long leafy street
Through tenderly falling
rain;
His footsteps near our portal veer,
Go past—then turn
again.
O can it be he is knocking below,
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5 |
Or here at my door above?
So gentle and small it sounds in the hall,
So loud in the ear of love.
But never a word of love he has said,
And never a word crave I,
|
10 |
For
why should one long for the daylight strong
When the dawn is in the
sky?
O a dewy rose-garden is the house,
A garden shut from the sun;
The breath of it sweet floats up, as my feet
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15 |
Float down to my waiting
one.
But if ever a word of love thinks he,
It falls from his heart
still-born; [Page 80]
Who bends to the rose does not haste to close
His hand around bud and
thorn.
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20 |
The beautiful soul that is in him turns
His beautiful face a gleam;
My own soul flies to feast in his eyes,
Where the silent love-words
teem.
Our talk is of books, and of thoughts and moods,
|
25 |
Of the wild flowers in the
rain;
And he leans his cheek, when we do not speak,
On his chair where my hand
had lain.
Yet never a word of love does he say,
And never a word crave I;
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30 |
For
the faint green May would wither away
At the quick touch of July.
And at last—at last we look our last,
And the dim day grows more
dim;
But his eyes still shine in these eyes of mine,
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35 |
And my soul goes forth with
him. [Page 81]
For though not a word of love does he say,
Still never a word crave
I;
For the words of earth are of little worth
When a song drops out of
the sky. [Page 82]
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40 |
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