I haven’t told my garden yet —
Lest that should conquer me.
I haven’t quite the strength now
To break it to the Bee —

I will not name it in the street
For shops would stare at me —
That one so shy — so ignorant
Should have the face to die.

The hillsides must not know it —
Where I have rambled so —
Nor tell the loving forests
The day that I shall go —

Nor lisp it at the table —
Nor heedless by the way
Hint that within the Riddle
One will walk today —

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