I pass in
silence
I talk to the bird as they sing i the morn,
The larks and the sparrows that spring from the corn,
The chaffinch and linnet that sing in the bush,
Till the zephur-like breezes that sing in the bush,
The silent I go and in fancy I steal
A kiss from the lips of a name I conceal;
But should I meet her Ive cherished for years
I pass by in silence, in fondness and tears.
Yes, I pass her in silence and say not a word,
And the noise of my footsteps may scarcely be heard,
I scarcely presume to cast on her eyes;
And then for a week, I do nothing but sigh.
If I look on a wild flower I see her face there;
There it is in its beauty, all radient and fair;
And should she pass by, Ive nothing to say,
We are both of us silent and have our own way.
I talk to the birds, the winds, and the rains;
My love to my dear one I never explain,
I talk to the flower which are growing all wild,
As if one was herself and the other her child;
I utter sweet words in my fanciful way,
But if she comes by Ive nothing to say;
To look for a kiss I would if I dare,
But I feel myself lost when near to my fair.
John Clare
Remember I used to say I like talking to trees? He is even better,
he talks to the birds, the winds and the rains.
My shifu! 