For works with similar titles, see The Secret.
For other versions of this work, see Some things that fly there be—.
XIV.
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!