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Song of Secret Love
by John Clare (1793-1864)
I hid my love when young while I
Couldn’t bear the buzzing of a fly
I hid my love to my despite
Till I could not bear to look at light
I dare not gaze upon her face
But left her memory in each place
Where ere I saw a wild flower lie
I kissed and bade my love goodbye
I met her in the greenest dells
Where dew drops pearl the wood bluebells
The lost breeze kissed her bright blue eye
The bee kissed and went singing by
A sunbeam found a passage there
A gold chain round her neck so fair
As secret as the wild bee’s song
She lay there all the summer long
I hid my love in field and town
Till e’en the breeze would knock me down
The bees seemed singing ballads l’er
The fly’s buss turned a Lion’s roar
And even silence found a tongue
To haunt me all the summer long
The riddle nature could not prove
Was nothing else but secret love
To Mary
by John Clare (1793-1864)
I sleep with thee, and wake with thee,
And yet thou art not there;
I fill my arms with thoughts of thee,
And press the common air.
Thy eyes are gazing upon mine
When thou art out of sight;
My lips are always touching thine
At morning, noon, and night.
I think and speak of other things
To keep my mind at rest,
But still to thee my memory clings
Like love in woman’s breast.
I hide it from the world’s wide eye
And think and speak contrary,
But soft the wind comes from the sky
And whispers tales of Mary.
The night-wind whispers in my ear,
The moon shines on my face;
The burden still of chilling fear
I find in every place.
The breeze is whispering in the bush,
And the leaves fall from the tree,
All sighing on, and will not hush,
Some pleasant tales of thee.
Vow To Love Faithfully, Howsoever He Be Rewarded.
By Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey (1517?-1547)
Set me whereas the sun doth parch the green,
Or where his beams do not dissolve the ice;
In temperate heat, where he is felt and seen;
In presence prest of people, mad or wise;
Set me high, or yet in low degree;
In longest night or in the shortest day;
In clearest sky or where clouds thickest be;
In lusty youth, or when my hairs are grey;
Set me in heaven, in earth or else in hell,
In hill, or dale or in foaming flood;
Thrall or at large, alive whereso I dwell,
Sick or in health, in evil fame or good,
Hers will I be; and only with this thought
Content myself, although my chance be nought.