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And there is another sunshine,Though it be darkness there;Never mind faded forests, Austin,Never mind silent fields—Here is a little forest,Whose leaf is ever green;Here is a brighter garden,Where not a frost has been;In its unfading flowersI hear the bright bee hum:Prithee, my brother,Into my garden come!

The feeblest of the waywardest.Her admonition mildIn forest and the hillBy traveller be heard,Restraining rampant squirrelOr too impetuous bird.How fair her conversationA summer afternoon,Her household her assembly;And when the sun go down,Her voice among the aislesIncite the timid prayerOf the minutest cricket,The most unworthy flower.When all the children sleep,She turns as long awayAs will suffice…

And like the Trees, look down—The smoke all cleared away from it—And Mirrors on the scene—Just laying light—no soul will winkExcept it have the flaw—The Sound ones, like the Hills—shall stand—No Lighting, scares away—The Perfect, nowhere be afraid—They bear their dauntless Heads,Where others, dare not go at Noon,Protected by their deeds—The Stars dare shine occasionallyUpon…

And go to pieces on the stonesAt bottom of my mind;Yet blamed the fate that fractured, lessThan I reviled myselfFor entertaining plated waresUpon my silver shelf.

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…

Ceases to be a Secret—then—A Secret—kept—That—can appal but One—Better of it—continual be afraid—Than it—And Whom you told it to—beside—