The Lover

written by


« Reload image

I SAT in a friendly company
  And wagged my wicked tongue so well,
  My friends were listening close to hear
  The wickedest tales that I could tell.
  For many a fond youth waits, I said,
  On many a worthless damozel;
  But every trusting fool shall learn
  To wish them heartily in hell.


  And when your name was spoken too,
  I did not change, I did not start,
  And when they only praised and loved,
  I still could play my secret part,
  Cursing and lies upon my tongue,
  And songs and shouting in my heart.


  But when you came and looked at me,
  You tried my poor pretence too much.
  O love, do you know the secret now
  Of one who would not tell nor touch?
  Must I confess before the pack
  Of babblers, idiots, and such?


  Do they not hear the burst of bells,
  Pealing at every step you make?
  Are not their eyelids winking too,
  Feeling your sudden brightness break?
  O too much glory shut with us!
  O walls too narrow and opaque!
  O come into the night with me
  And let me speak, for Jesus' sake.

© John Crowe Ransom