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Algernon Charles Swinburne - A Ballad of Dreamland
Work rating: Medium

I hid my heart in a nest of roses,
Out of the sun`s way, hidden apart;
In a softer bed then the soft white snow`s is,
Under the roses I hid my heart.
Why would it sleep not? why should it start,
When never a leaf of the rose-tree stirred?
What made sleep flutter his wings and part?
Only the song of a secret bird.

Lie still, I said, for the wind`s wing closes,
And mild leaves muffle the keen sun`s dart;
Lie still, for the wind on the warm seas dozes,
And the wind is unquieter yet than thou art.
Does a thought in thee still as a thorn`s wound smart?
Does the fang still fret thee of hope deferred?
What bids the lips of thy sleep dispart?
Only the song of a secret bird.

The green land`s name that a charm encloses, 
It never was writ in the traveller`s chart,
And sweet on its trees as the fruit that grows is,
It never was sold in the merchant`s mart.
The swallows of dreams through its dim fields dart,
And sleep`s are the tunes in its tree-tops heard;
No hound`s note wakens the wildwood hart,
Only the song of a secret bird.


ENVOI

In the world of dreams I have chosen my part,
To sleep for a season and hear no word
Of true love`s truth or of light love`s art,
Only the song of a secret bird.
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