Not probable — The barest Chance –
A smile too few — a word too much
And far from Heaven as the Rest –
The Soul so close on Paradise –
What if the Bird from journey far –
Confused by Sweets — as Mortals — are –
Forget the secret of His wing
And perish — but a Bough between –
Oh, Groping feet –
Oh Phantom Queen!
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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!