Of love that's never mine,
except in dreams?
Why are my good intentions always slighted?
There must be something wrong,
or so it seems.
I wish that you,
at whom these outbursts are directed,
Might see right through this aching frame,
straight to the heart,
And see the love that lies there undetected,
kept a secret from the start.
And yet I hesitate to show my true emotion,
In mortal fear lest it may frighten you away,
And so my coward heart remains in sad commotion,
I live in reqequited love another day.