Poems (Edwards)/The Mute Lover

THE MUTE LOVER.

They tell me that he loves me,
They say he loves me well,
But why he doesn't tell me,
I'm sure I cannot tell;
They say his heart is with me
Where'er on earth I go,
But this is nothing to me,
Since he don't tell me so.

I very often meet him,
But then he looks so shy,
That when he's asked a question,
He scarcely will reply;
They say he holds me dearer
Than all on earth below,
He's a strange uncommon creature,
Why don't he tell me so?

I meet him at the party,
Our hands, they often touch
In the free and frequent greetings
That we admire so much;
They say his love is constant,
Affectionate and pure,
I never will believe it,
Unless he tells me so.

But he will not, always, be
So backward and so shy,
I know it by the brightness
That sparkles in his eye;
He'll tell me very shortly,
Of that I'm almost sure,
Although his tongue is silent,
His eyes have told me so.