Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

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!

1. What Inn Is This
2. It Was Not Death, for I Stood up
3. A Throe upon the Features
4. Till the End
5. Some, Too Fragile for Winter Winds

Harriet Beecher Stowe The Secret ("WHEN winds are raging o'er the upper ocean")

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