The Secret
1855-1930
Nightingales warble about it,
All night under blossom and star;
The wild swan is dying without it,
And the eagle crieth afar;
The sun he doth mount but to find it,
Searching the green earth o'er;
But more doth a man's heart mind it,
Oh, more, more, more!
Over the gray leagues of ocean
The infinite yearneth alone;
The forests with wandering emotion
The thing they know not intone;
Creation arose but to see it,
A million lamps in the blue;
But a lover he shall be it
If one sweet maid is true.
DayPoems Poem No. 1155
<a href="http://www.daypoems.net/poems/1155.html">The Secret by George Edward Woodberry</a>
The DayPoems Poetry Collection, www.daypoems.net
Timothy Bovee, editor
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