I Should Tell You. But You Should Never Know.

How troubadours compose my woes;

And singers cry out my blues,

How th' night heist'd my light;

And th' walls echo my plight.

How your every tender fondle,

Bore every affection's sigil.

But mayhap less than meets the eye,

Is this false fantasy of mine;

As I build my castles in th' air,

And hid my love secretly there.

Now I wonder and wonder,

If you too built your secret castle,

Then I should tell you so,

But, then again you should never know.





Now when did you last let your heart decide?