Sara Teasdale

The Treasure

  When they see my songs
   They will sigh and say,
  "Poor soul, wistful soul,
   Lonely night and day."

  They will never know
   All your love for me
  Surer than the spring,
   Stronger than the sea;

  Hidden out of sight
   Like a miser's gold
  In forsaken fields
   Where the wind is cold.