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—SourceThe script ran 0 seconds.
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