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Amelia Opie - Secret Love
Work rating: Low

Not one kind look….one friendly word!
Wilt thou in chilling silence sit;
Nor through the social hour afford
One cheering smile, or beam of wit?

Yet still, absorbed in studious care,
Neglect to waste one look on me;
For then my happy eyes may dare
To gaze and dwell unchecked on thee.

And still in silence sit, nor deign
One gentle precious word to say;
For silent I may then remain,
Nor let my voice my soul betray.

This faltering voice, these conscious eyes,
My throbbing heart too plainly speak:
There timid hopeless passion lies,
And bids it silence keep, and break .

To me how dear this twilight hour,
Cheered by the faggot`s varying blaze!
If this be mine, I ask no more
On morn`s refulgent light to gaze:

For now, while on HIS glowing cheek
I see the fire`s red radiance fall,
The darkest seat I softly seek,
And gaze on HIM , unseen by all.

His folded arms, his studious brow,
His thoughtful eye, unmarked, I see;
Nor could his voice or words bestow
So dear, so true a joy on me.

But he forgets that I am near….
Fame, future fame, in thought he seeks:
To him ambition`s paths appear,
And bright the sun of science breaks.

His heart with ardent hope is filled;
His prospects full of beauty bloom:
But, oh! my heart despair has chilled,
My only prospect is….the tomb!

One only boon from Heaven I claim,
And may it grant the fond desire!
That I may live to hear his fame,
And in that throb of joy expire .

Oft hast thou marked my chilling eye,
And mourned my cold reserve to see,
Resolved the fickle friend to fly,
Who seemed unjust to worth and thee:

While I, o`erjoyed, thy anger saw….
Blest proof I had not tried in vain
To give imperious passion law,
And hide my bosom`s conscious pain.

But when night`s sheltering darkness came,
And none the conscious wretch could view,
How fiercely burned the smothered flame!
How deep was every sigh I drew!

Yet still to thee I`ll clothe my brow
In all that jealous pride requires;
My look the type of Ætna`s snow….
My heart, of Ætna`s secret fires.

One little moment, short as blest,
Compassion Love`s soft semblance wore;
My meagre form he fondly pressed,
And on his beating bosom bore.

His frame with strong emotion shook,
And kindness tuned each faltering word;
While I, surprised, with anxious look
The meaning of his glance explored.

But soon my too experienced heart
Read nought but generous pity there;
I felt presumptuous hope depart,
And all again was dark despair.

Yet still, in memory still, my heart
Lives o`er that fleeting bliss again;
I feel his glance, his touch, impart
Emotion through each bursting vein.

And "Once ," I cry, "those eyes so sweet
On me with fondness deigned to shine;
For once I felt his bosom beat
Against the conscious throbs of mine!"

Nor shall the dear remembrance die
While aught of life to me is given;
But soothe my last convulsive sigh,
And be, till then, my joy….my heaven!
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