Samuel Lover

The Flower of Night

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There is an Indian tree, they say,
Whose timid flow'r avoids the light,
Concealing thus from tell-tale day
The beauties it unfolds at night.
So many a thought may hidden lie,
So sighs unbreath'd by day may be,
Which, freely, 'neath the starry sky
In secret faith I give to thee:--
The love that strays
Thro' pleasure's ways,
Is like the flow'rs that love the light;
But love that's deep,
And faith will keep,
Is like the flow'r that blooms at night.


Then do not blame my careless mien
Amid this world of maskers gay,
I would not let my heart be seen--
I wear a mask as well as they.
Ah, who would wish the gay should smile
At passion too refined for them:--
And therefore I with blameless guile
Conceal within my heart the gem:--
The love that strays
Thro' pleasure's ways,
Is like the flow'rs that love the light;
But love that's deep,
And faith will keep,
Is like the flow'r that blooms at night.

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Samuel Lover