The Secret

I wish that the morning may know not
The name that I spoke to the night,
And that in the breeze of the dawn, without sound,
Like a tear it would vanish.

I wish that the day may proclaim
The love that I have hidden from the morning,
And leaning over my open heart
Like a grain of incense it would catch fire.

I wish that the evening may forget
The seret I have told to the day,
And carry it away with my love,
In the folds of its pallid dress.