I Love You
by Sara Teasdale

When April bends above me
and finds me fast asleep,
dust need not keep the secret
a live heart died to keep.

When April tells the thrushes,
the meadow-larks will know,
and pipe the three words lightly
to all the winds that blow.

Above his roof the swallows,
in notes like far-blown rain,
will tell the little sparrow
beside his window-pane.

O sparrow, little sparrow,
when I am fast asleep,
then tell my love the secret
that I have died to keep.