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!

Dust is the only Secret –
Death, the only One
You cannot find out all about
In his “native town.”

Nobody know “his Father” –
Never was a Boy –
Hadn’t any playmates,
Or “Early history” –

Industrious! Laconic!
Punctual! Sedate!
Bold as a Brigand!
Stiller than a Fleet!

Builds, like a Bird, too!
Christ robs the Nest –
Robin after Robin
Smuggled to Rest!

Cocoon above! Cocoon below!
Stealthy Cocoon, why hide you so
What all the world suspect?
An hour, and gay on every tree
Your secret, perched in ecstasy
Defies imprisonment!

An hour in Chrysalis to pass,
Then gay above receding grass
A Butterfly to go!
A moment to interrogate,
Then wiser than a “Surrogate,”
The Universe to know!

A science — so the Savants say,
“Comparative Anatomy” –
By which a single bone –
Is made a secret to unfold
Of some rare tenant of the mold,
Else perished in the stone –

So to the eye prospective led,
This meekest flower of the mead
Upon a winter’s day,
Stands representative in gold
Of Rose and Lily, manifold,
And countless Butterfly!