XVI
Secrets
The skies can’t keep their secret!They tell it to the hills—The hills just tell the orchards—And they the daffodils!
A bird, by chance, that goes that waySoft overheard the whole.If I should bribe the little bird,Who knows but she would tell?
I think I won’t, however,It’s finer not to know;If summer were an axiom,What sorcery had snow?
So keep your secret, Father!I would not, if I could,Know what the sapphire fellows do,In your new-fashioned world!