YOU think I do not love you! Why, Because I have my secret grief? Because in reading I pass by, Time and again, the uncut leaf? One rainy night you read to me In some old book, I know not what, About the woods of Eldersie, And a great hunt -- I have forgot What all the story was -- ah, well, It touched me, and I felt the pain With which the poor dumb creature fell To his weak knees, then rose again, And shuddering, dying, turned about, Lifted his antlered head in pride, And from his wounded face shook out The bloody arrows ere he died! That night I almost dared, I think, To cut the leaf, and let the sun Shine in upon the mouldy ink, -- You ask me why it was not done. Because I rather feel than know The truth which every soul receives From kindred souls that long ago You read me through the double leaves! So pray you, leave my tears to blot The record of my secret grief, And though I know you know, seem not Ever to see the uncut leaf. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BLACK RIDERS: 22 by STEPHEN CRANE ACCIDENT IN ART by RICHARD HOVEY IN EARLIEST SPRING by WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS RIFLEMAN FORM! by ALFRED TENNYSON A MOOD by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH WINDOW TRIMMER by MARGARET LEE ASHLEY ALEXANDER VI DINES WITH THE CARDINAL OF CAPUA by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET |