The Secret

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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 !

from Poems by Emily Dickinson (1890)

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