Classic Poem

No utterance to her lips might rise,
Too many listeners were by;
I could but shyly seek her eyes,
And there her secret thought descry.
With noiseless fall my footsteps press
The silence of thy leafy glade;
Oh, hide in thine embowered recess
From eyes profane our holy Love.

From far away a mingled roar
Proclaims the busy toil of day,
And o'er the din of voices soar
The clattering hammers as they play.
Thus hardly do poor mortals wring
Their scanty mercies from on high,
And yet how lightly blessings spring
When generous gods mankind supply.

May human beings never learn
How deep and true our love has grown;
Our happiness they would but spurn
Since joy to them was never known
The world rewards with grudging hand,
And Fortune must be seized by force;
If thine attempts it should withstand
Mistrust and spite will have their course.

It comes on tiptoe's fairy tread,
Loving the stilly hours of night,
And in an instant it has fled
Should my betrayer come in sight.
Thou gentle river, circle round
And hold us in thy kind embrace,
And, rushing, let thy very sound
Protect this gift, this holy place!