John Clare’s speaker looks back on a young love he never dared reveal. He hid it so completely that ordinary sensations became unbearable—a fly’s buzz, even daylight. The more he buried his feelings, the louder and more menacing the natural world grew: a breeze felt like a blow, bees sang mocking ballads, a fly’s hum roared like a lion. Nature seemed to amplify his turmoil. Yet there’s tenderness too: he remembers finding her in a dell, lying among bluebells, kissed by sunbeams and as secret as a wild bee’s song—a peaceful image that deepens the ache. The poem creates a stifled, haunted mood, where silence itself finds a tongue to torment him all summer long. The riddle that nature could not prove is simply his hidden love, a private ache that turns the whole landscape into an echo chamber of his secret, unfulfilled heart.
Secret Love — Summary
I hid my love when young till I Couldn't bear the buzzing of a fly; I hid my love to my despite Till I could not bear to look at light: I dare not gaze upon her face But left her memory in each place; Where eer I saw a wild flower lie I kissed and bade my love good bye.
I met her in the greenest dells Where dewdrops pearl the wood blue bells The lost breeze kissed her bright blue eye, The bee kissed and went singing by, A sunbeam found a passage there, A gold chain round her neck so fair; As secret as the wild bee's song She lay there all the summer long.
I hid my love in field and town Till een the breeze would knock me down, The bees seemed singing ballads oer, The fly's bass turned a lion's roar; And even silence found a tongue, To haunt me all the summer long; The riddle nature could not prove Was nothing else but secret love.