The secret

And all the charms of face or voice
Which I in others see
Are but the recollected choice
Of what I felt for thee.

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I loved thee, though I told thee not,
Right earlily and long,
Thou wert my joy in every spot,
My theme in every song.

And when I saw a stranger face
Where beauty held the claim,
I gave it like a secret grace
The being of thy name.

And all the charms of face or voice
Which I in others see
Are but the recollected choice
Of what I felt for thee.

– John Clare

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Author: pecsbowen

reader.philosopher.writer

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