I have not Told my Garden Yet by Emily Dickinson

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I have not told my garden yet, / Lest that should conquer me; / I have not quite the strength now / To break it to the bee.

I will not name it in the street, / For shops would stare, that I, / So shy, so very 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 to-day!

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