Emily Dickinson – The Skies can't keep their secret!


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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!

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