Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE LITTLE BIRD THAT TOLD THE SECRET, by MARY N. MCDONALD


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE LITTLE BIRD THAT TOLD THE SECRET, by                    
First Line: So I've heard your secret, mabel
Last Line: And live beside the mill.
Alternate Author Name(s): Meigs, Mary N.; Bleeker, Mary N.
Subject(s): Marriage; Secrets; Weddings; Husbands; Wives


So I've heard your secret, Mabel,
I've heard it, my little maid,
And you're going to do a silly thing
I am very much afraid.

You're going to marry the miller,
And live beside the mill!
But the miller, they say, is an idle man,
And often his wheel stands still.

And they say he is growing careless,
And spends the livelong day
In gazing over the shining stream
At a cottage across the way.

And they say he is wild and wilful, --
So prithee, my Mable, dear,
Don't give your hand to the miller,
If all is true that I hear.

Who says he is idle, Bessie?
And wild and wilful, too?
If ever it come to the miller's ears,
They may find it cause to rue.

And who told you this mighty secret?
You need not think 't is so;
A body may walk with a quiet man,
Yet never to church may go.

I should like to see the lassie
Who told you the silly jest;
As if I would part with my secret,
For a ring and a wedding vest.

You need not deny it, Mabel,
'Twas a little bird who came
But now with the wondrous story,
And told unto me the same.

I mark'd the gleam of his crimson breast,
As he flitted across your cheek;
And the rapid flash of his darting wing
In your eye, when you did speak.

You're dreaming, Bessie, you're dreaming,
No talking birds have we;
And I would not whisper the matter,
I'm sure, to a bird on the tree;

And never a wing came flitting
Across my cheek or eye --
So, Bessie, you must be dreaming,
With all this mystery.

Ah! Mabel; you may dissemble
With duller folks, I ween,
But you cannot still the music
Of the little bird I mean.

He hath his nest in your gentle breast,
And a tell-tale bird is he,
For I mark'd the flush of his crimson coat
On your cheek too easily.

And when I told you the miller
Was a wild and wilful man,
The bird flew out at your flashing eye
As only a fairy can.

And I knew, by your hasty speaking
In such an earnest way,
That you cared for the honest miller
Much more than you choose to say.

So what I but guess'd, my Mable,
The bird hath told at will,
That you're going to marry the miller,
And live beside the mill.





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