Nature

XVI. The Skies Can’t Keep My Secret!

XVI.

The skies can’t keep my 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.
Should I bribe the little bird,
Or smash it with my sole?

I know I won’t—nor will I
Cage her with some bars;
Instead I’ll simply pitch a rock
To make her head see stars.

 

Her final draft. Also arranged for children’s chorus!

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