Little Egg,
Which truths are yours which against me you have ardently withheld, and
Which secret divulgences do you make when I do not attend;
Whither do they flow? In the morning mist,
It is for you not that you are blessed with a mouth,
It is this reason you make unspeakable utterances.
Yet when I observe you, your must is silent.
Therefore it is our duty at the forefront of deceiving,
To, myself-- and you, an egg, go
into the universe. Here will we make our stand, on this place can we build a home.