THERE is, they say, a secret well, In Ardennes' forest grey, Whose waters boast a numbing spell, That memory must obey. Who tastes the rill so cool and calm In passion's wild distress, Their breasts imbibe the sullen balm Of deep forgetfulness. And many a maid has sought the grove, And bow'd beside the wave; But few have borne to lose the love That wore them to the grave. No! by these tears, whose ceaseless smart My reason chides in vain; By all the secret of a heart That never told its pain; By all the walks that once were dear, Beneath the greenwood bough; By all the songs that soothed his ear Who will not listen now; By every dream of hope gone by That haunts my slumber yet, -- A love-sick heart may long to die, But never to forget! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ACCOMPLISHED FACTS by CARL SANDBURG SOLOMON TO SHEBA by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS PRAISE FOR AN URN; IN MEMORIAM: ERNEST NELSON by HAROLD HART CRANE UPON THE LOSS OF HIS MISTRESSES by ROBERT HERRICK A SMUGGLER'S SONG by RUDYARD KIPLING THE MERMAID by ALFRED TENNYSON |