THE SECRET

by John Clare

I loved thee, though I told thee not,

   Right earlily and long,

Thou wert my joy in every spot,

   My theme in every song.

And when I saw a stranger face

   Where beauty held the claim,

I gave it like a secret grace

   The being of thy name.

And all the charms of face or voice

   Which I in others see

Are but the recollected choice

   Of what I felt for thee.