The owls are blabber-beaks that gossip much,
So never tell your secrets, quiet, to one;
For councils far have formed to chatter such,
And wills they leave behind, from son to son.
Like shadow tricks—a dark and rippled dance,
Like moonlight, starlight, leaping over walls—
The whispered secrets, far and wide, will prance,
And those who hear the wind will know them all.
Like candles drawing eyes from secrets massed,
For light will blind as sure as dark and dusk;
So light a candle, blinding secrets passed,
A pleasure song to deafen truths so brusque.
The ways of secrets, revealed thus to one,
Become no hidden secrets—new to none.
Take yours to your grave;)
