I

    I cannot heed¹ the words they say,The lights grow far away and dim, Amid the laughing men and maidsMy eyes unbidden seek for him.

    I hope that when he smiles at meHe does not guess my joy and pain, For if he did, he is too kindTo ever look my way again.

    II

    I have a secret in my heartNo ears have ever heard, And still it sings there day by dayMost like a caged bird.

    And when it beats against the bars,I do not set it free, For I am happier to knowIt only sings for me.

    III

    I wrote his name along the beach,I love the letters so. Far up it seemed and out of reach,For still the tide was low.

    But oh, the sea came creeping up,And washed the name away, And on the sand where it had beenA bit of sea-grass lay.

    A bit of sea-grass on the sand,Dropped from a mermaid's hair —— Ah, had she come to kiss his nameAnd leave a token there？

    IV

    What am I that he should love me, He who stands so far above me,What am I？ I am like a cowslip turningToward the sky, Where a planet's golden burning Breaks the cowslip's heart with yearning², What am I that he should love me,What am I？

    V

    O dreams that flock about my sleep,I pray you bring my love to me, And let me think I hear his voiceAgain ring free.

    And if you care to please me well,And live to-morrow in my mind, Let him who was so cold before,To-night seem kind.

    VI

    I plucked a daisy in the fields,And there beneath the sun I let its silver petals³ fall One after one.

    I said, "He loves me, loves me not,"And oh, my heart beat fast, The flower was kind, it let me say"He loves me," last.

    I kissed the little leafless stem,But oh, my poor heart knew The words the flower had said to me,They were not true.

    VII

    I sent my love a letter,And if he loves me not, He shall not find my love for himIn any line or dot.

    But if he loves me truly,He'll find it hidden deep, As dawn gleams red thro' chilly⁴ cloudsTo eyes awaked from sleep.

    VIII

    The world is cold and gray and wet, And I am heavy-hearted, yet When I am home and look to see The place my letters wait for me, If I should find ONE letter there, I think I should not greatly care If it were rainy or were fair, For all the world would suddenly Seem like a festival to me.