AT DUSK, like flowers that shun the day, br Shy thoughts from dim recesses break, br And plead for words I dare not say br For your sweet sake. br br My early love! my first, my last! br Mistakes have been that both must rue; br But all the passion of the past br Survives for you. br br The tender message Hope might send br Sinks fainting at the lips of speech, br For, are you lover—are you friend, br That I would reach? br br How much to-night I’d give to win br A banished peace—an old repose; br But here I sit, and sigh, and sin br When no one knows. br br The stern, the steadfast reticence, br Which made the dearest phrases halt, br And checked a first and finest sense, br Was not my fault. br br I held my words because there grew br About my life persistent pride; br And you were loved, who never knew br What love could hide! br br This purpose filled my soul like flame: br To win you wealth and take the place br Where care is not, nor any shame br To vex your face. br br I said “Till then my heart must keep br Its secrets safe and unconfest;” br And days and nights unknown to sleep br The vow attest.