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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - She Shall Not Guess
Work rating: Low

Even if I died no sound should tell it her.
 Death babbles, but the calm of her dear eyes
 In vain would ask, no tell--tale breath should stir
 The lips still treasuring a thought unwise.
 How vain my life has been in its disguise,
 Left unregarded, her least pensioner,
 Yielding to all, unasking even with sighs
 The dole of hope not Heaven could quite confer.
 --To--day behold me on this page her name
 Over my own inscribing, with no prayer,
 Nor daring even to kneel in my distress.
 What I have written in this candle`s flame
 Shrinks ere `tis finished, and the incensed air
 Bears but betrays it not. She shall not guess.
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