Knowest thou the hidden language
By these lovely flowerets spoken?
Truth by day-time, love at night-time—
’Tis of this that they’re the token!
34.
Thy letter, sent to prove me,
Inflicts no sense of wrong;
No longer wilt thou love me,—
Thy letter, though, is long.
Twelve sides, to tell thy views all!
A manuscript, in fact!
In giving a refusal
Far otherwise we act.
35.
Care not, if my love I’m telling
Unto all the world around,
When my mouth, thy beauty praising,
Full of metaphor is found.
Underneath a wood of flowers,
Lies in shelter safe below,
All that deep and glowing secret,
All that deep and secret glow.
If suspicious sparks should issue
From the roses,—fearless be!
This dull world in flames believes not,
But believes them poetry.
36.
Day and night alike the springtime
Makes with sounding life all-teeming;
Like a verdant echo can it
Enter even in my dreaming.