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Christina Georgina Rossetti - Winter: My Secret
Work rating: Medium

I tell my secret? No indeed, not I:
Perhaps some day, who knows?
But not today; it froze, and blows and snows,
And you`re too curious: fie!
You want to hear it? well:
Only, my secret`s mine, and I won`t tell. 

Or, after all, perhaps there`s none:
Suppose there is no secret after all,
But only just my fun.
Today`s a nipping day, a biting day;
In which one wants a shawl,
A veil, a cloak, and other wraps:
I cannot ope to everyone who taps,
And let the draughts come whistling thro` my hall;
Come bounding and surrounding me,
Come buffeting, astounding me,
Nipping and clipping thro` my wraps and all.
I wear my mask for warmth: who ever shows
His nose to Russian snows
To be pecked at by every wind that blows?
You would not peck? I thank you for good will,
Believe, but leave the truth untested still. 

Spring`s an expansive time: yet I don`t trust
March with its peck of dust,
Nor April with its rainbow-crowned brief showers,
Nor even May, whose flowers
One frost may wither thro` the sunless hours. 

Perhaps some languid summer day,
WHen drowsy birds sing less and less,
And golden fruit is ripening to excess,
If there`s not too much sun nor too much cloud,
And the warm wind is neither still nor loud,
Perhaps my secret I may say,
Or you may guess.
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