50

I haven’t told my garden yet —

Lest that should conquer me.

I haven’t quite the strength now

To break it to the Bee —

I will not name it in the street

For shops would stare at me —

That one so shy — so ignorant

Should have the face to die.

The hillsides must not know it —

Where I have rambled so —

Nor tell the loving forests

The day that I shall go —

Nor lisp it at the table —

Nor heedless by the way

Hint that within the Riddle

One will walk today —

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