The Skies Can't Keep Their Secret!
Emily Dickinson
191 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 overhears 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!
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