The Song Maker - A Collection of Poems. Sara Teasdale

dream that he is true,

      And all his words I keep

      As rose-leaves hold the dew.

      O little thirsty rose,

      O little heart beware,

      Lest you should hope to hold

      A hundred roses' share.

      A MAIDEN

      Oh if I were the velvet rose

      Upon the red rose vine,

      I'd climb to touch his window

      And make his casement fine.

      And if I were the little bird

      That twitters on the tree,

      All day I'd sing my love for him

      Till he should harken me.

      But since I am a maiden

      I go with downcast eyes,

      And he will never hear the songs

      That he has turned to sighs.

      And since I am a maiden

      My love will never know

      That I could kiss him with a mouth

      More red than roses blow.

      "I LOVE YOU"

      When April bends above me

      And finds me fast asleep,

      Dust need not keep the secret

      A live heart died to keep.

      When April tells the thrushes,

      The meadow-larks will know,

      And pipe the three words lightly

      To all the winds that blow.

      Above his roof the swallows,

      In notes like far-blown rain,

      Will tell the little sparrow

      Beside his window-pane.

      O sparrow, little sparrow,

      When I am fast asleep,

      Then tell my love the secret

      That I have died to keep.

      BUT NOT TO ME

      The April night is still and sweet

      With flowers on every tree;

      Peace comes to them on quiet feet,

      But not to me.

      My peace is hidden in his breast

      Where I shall never be,

      Love comes to-night to all the rest,

      But not to me.