The Words I Dare Not Speak

I write, yet dread the ink should speak too plain, Praying thou find’st the truth herein contained. How oft I strive, aye, and most bitterly, To give a name to this which stirs my breast, Yet words, like shadows, fly when I draw near. Time and again I have essayed to speak, But the first breath doth fail, and phrasing halts Though I, well-practiced in the poet’s art, Can weave for others what I lose for thee. If it please thee, I would fain be known, To walk within the shadow of thy grace, Yet only by thy leave, for I desire No path but that which thy consent hath marked. 'Tis a sweet burden, strange and hard to bear, To love the one I dare not look upon. My tongue, once sovereign o’er a thousand songs, Now trips and stammers like a frightened child. Therefore, if thou canst read what stays unsaid, If thou canst hear the cry within my hush, Then know, ’tis thee for whom my silence burns