50

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