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Ella Wheeler Wilcox - A Maiden`s Secret
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I have written this day down in my heart 
   As the sweetest day in the season; 
From all of the others I`ve set it apart—- 
   But I will not tell you the reason, 
That is my secret—-I must not tell; 
   But the skies are soft and tender, 
And never before, I know full well, 
   Was the earth so full of splendour.

I sing at my labour the whole day long, 
   And my heart is as light as a feather; 
And there is a reason for my glad song 
   Besides the beautiful weather. 
But I will not tell it to you; and though 
   That thrush in the maple heard it, 
And would shout it aloud if he could, I know 
   He hasn`t the power to word it.

Up, where I was sewing, this morn came one 
   Who told me the sweetest stories, 
He said I had stolen my hair from the sun, 
   And my eyes from the morning glories. 
Grandmother says that I must not believe 
   A word men say, for they flatter; 
But I`m sure he would never try to deceive, 
   For he told me—-but there—-no matter!

Last night I was sad, and the world to me 
   Seemed a lonely and dreary dwelling, 
But some one then had not asked me to be—- 
   There now! I am almost telling. 
Not another word shall my two lips say, 
   I will shut them fast together, 
And never a mortal shall know to-day 
   Why my heart is as light as a feather.
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