I Whispered To The Bobolink

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I WHISPERED to the bobolink:
  "Sweet singer of the field,
Teach me a song to reach a heart
  In maiden armor steeled."

  "If there be such a song," sang he,
  "No bird can tell its mystery."

I bent above the sweetest rose,
  A deeper sweet to stir--
"O Rose," I begged, "what charm will wake
  The deep, sweet heart of her?"

  "Alas, poor lover," sighed the rose,
  "The charm you seek no flower knows."

I wandered by the midnight lake
  Where heaven lay confessed
"Tell me," I cried, "what draws the stars
  To lie upon your breast?"

  The silence woke to soft reply
  "When Heaven stoops--demand not why!"

"Alas, sweet maid, love's potent charm
  I cannot beg or buy,
I cannot wrest it from the wind
  Or steal it from the sky--"

  Breathless, I caught her whisper low,
  "I love you--why, I do not know!"

© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay