Poems, Series 1: XIV. The Secret.
XIV. The Secret.
Some things that fly there be, --
Birds, hours, the bumble-bee:
Of these no elegy.
Some things that stay there be, --
Grief, hills, eternity:
Nor this behooveth me.
There are, that resting, rise.
Can I expound the skies?
How still the riddle lies!