CLXXIV Love’s Secret
Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind doth move
Silently, invisibly.
I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart,
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears:—
Ah! she did depart.
Soon after she was gone from me
A traveller came by,
Silently, invisibly:
He took her with a sigh.
W. Blake