William Blake (1757-1827)
never seek to tell thy love,
love that never told can be
for the gentle wind doth move
silently, invisibly.
i told my love, i told my love,
i told him all my heart,
trembling, cold, in ghastly fears.
ah! he did depart!
soon after he was gone from me,
a traveller came by,
silently, invisibly
she took him with a sigh