 | [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
THE UNCUT LEAF.
You think I do not love you! Why,
Because I have my secret grief?
Because in reading I pass by,
Time and again, the uncut leaf?
Because I have my secret grief?
Because in reading I pass by,
Time and again, the uncut leaf?
One rainy night you read to me
In some old book, I know not what,
About the woods of Eldersie,
And a great hunt—I have forgot
In some old book, I know not what,
About the woods of Eldersie,
And a great hunt—I have forgot
What all the story was—ah, well,
It touched me, and I felt the pain
With which the poor dumb creature fell
To his weak knees, then rose again,
It touched me, and I felt the pain
With which the poor dumb creature fell
To his weak knees, then rose again,
And shuddering, dying, turned about,
Lifted his antlered head in pride,
And from his wounded face shook out
The bloody arrows ere he died!
Lifted his antlered head in pride,
And from his wounded face shook out
The bloody arrows ere he died!
That night I almost dared, I think,
To cut the leaf, and let the sun
Shine in upon the mouldy ink,—
You ask me why it was not done.
To cut the leaf, and let the sun
Shine in upon the mouldy ink,—
You ask me why it was not done.
Because I rather feel than know
The truth which every soul receives
From kindred souls that long ago
You read me through the double leaves!
The truth which every soul receives
From kindred souls that long ago
You read me through the double leaves!
So pray you, leave my tears to blot
The record of my secret grief,
And though I know you know, seem not
Ever to see the uncut leaf.
The record of my secret grief,
And though I know you know, seem not
Ever to see the uncut leaf.
| [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |