Classic Poem

Tell me not now, if love for love
 Thou canst return,—
Now while around us and above
 Day's flambeaux burn.
Not in clear noon, with speech as clear,
 Thy heart avow,
For every gossip wind to hear;
 Tell me not now!

Tell me not now the tidings sweet,
 The news divine;
A little longer at thy feet
 Leave me to pine.
I would not have the gadding bird
 Hear from his bough;
Nay, though I famish for a word,
 Tell me not now!

But when deep trances of delight
 All Nature seal,
When round the world the arms of Night
 Caressing steal,
When rose to dreaming rose says, “ Dear ,
  Dearest ,”—and when
Heaven sighs her secret in Earth's ear,
 Ah, tell me then!