Emily Dickinson’s “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!
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Emily Dickinson
This was written by
joannemerriam. Posted on
Thursday, September 10, 2009, at 6:28 am. Filed under
Poetry,
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