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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