"I hid my love when young til I / Couldn't bear the buzzing of a fly; / I hid my love to my despire / Till I could not bear to look at light: / I dare not gaze upon her face / But left her memory in each place; / Where e'er I saw a wild flower lie / I kissed and bade my love goodbye. / I met her in the greenest dells / Where dewdrops pearl the wood blue bells / 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 / Til e'en the breeze would knock me down, / The bees seemed singing ballads oer, / The fly's bass 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."
by John Clare
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