If you came
If you came to my secret glade,
Weary with heat,
I would set you down in the shade,
I would wash your feet.
If you came in the winter sad,
Wanting for bread,
I would give you the last that I had,
I would give you my bed.
But the place is hidden apart
Like a nest by a brook
And I will not show you my heart
By a word, by a look.
The place is hidden apart
Like a nest of a bird
And I will not show you my heart
By a look, by a word.
Ruth Pitter
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