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 way Soft 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!
