I sat in a friendly company <br />And wagged my wicked tongue so well, <br />My friends were listening close to hear <br />The wickedest tales that I could tell. <br />For many a fond youth waits, I said, <br />On many a worthless damozel; <br />But every trusting fool shall learn <br />To wish them heartily in hell. <br /> <br /> <br />And when your name was spoken too, <br />I did not change, I did not start, <br />And when they only praised and loved, <br />I still could play my secret part, <br />Cursing and lies upon my tongue, <br />And songs and shouting in my heart. <br /> <br /> <br />But when you came and looked at me, <br />You tried my poor pretence too much. <br />O love, do you know the secret now <br />Of one who would not tell nor touch? <br />Must I confess before the pack <br />Of babblers, idiots, and such? <br /> <br /> <br />Do they not hear the burst of bells, <br />Pealing at every step you make? <br />Are not their eyelids winking too, <br />Feeling your sudden brightness break? <br />O too much glory shut with us! <br />O walls too narrow and opaque! <br />O come into the night with me <br />And let me speak, for Jesus' sake.<br /><br />John Crowe Ransom<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-lover-13/
