We have a secret you and I,
That no one else shall know,
For who but I can see you lie,
Each night, in fireglow?
And who but I can reach my hand
Before I go to bed,
And feel the living warmth of you
And touch your silken head?
And only I walk woodland paths,
And see, ahead of me,
Your small form racing with the wind,
So young again, and free!
And only I can see you swim
In every brook I pass. . .
And, when I call, no one but I
Can see the bending grass.
. .
. . . Author Unknown
