Elizabeth Drew Barstow Stoddard (06 May 1823 – 01 Aug 1902 | Mattapoisett MA – Manhattan NY) poet, novelist.

The poet’s secret I must know, if that will calm my restless mind. Through life I hear the

rhythmic flow whose meaning into song must turn; revealing all we long to know, the

secret each alone must learn. Could I but climb a roof above my own, and greet grave

Autumn that walks the earth with secret signal that would make me known, I should not

feel my dearth. Then silver mist or loud triumphant wind might come in sad disguise and

misery; I would but ponder in my secret mind how Autumn answers me. Such private

songs are as the silent, secret kiss of Love! Waiting for a foe where four roads meet, where

dame and page in secret greet. The forest holds the secret you surprised. At peace, I know,

as those who suffer know, there is no secret we can wrest from Nature, where rivers creep

in secret. Wander on! Keep the tryst, in secret — in the dreamy maze.

Stoddard, Elizabeth. Poems. Boston and New York: Houghton, Mifflin & Co., 1895. https://archive.org/details/poems02stod/page/n8/mode/1up