An Open Secret

Would the lark sing the sweeter if he knew
A thousand hearts hung breathless on his lay?
And if "How fair!" the rose could hear us say,
Would she, her primal fairness to outdo,
Take on a richer scent, a lovelier hue?
Who knows or cares to answer yea or nay?
O tuneful lark! sail, singing, on your way,
Brimmed with excess of ecstasy; and you,
Sweet rose! renew with every perfect June
Your perfect blossoming! Still Nature-wise,
Sing, bloom, because ye must, and not for praise.
If only we, who covet the fair boon
Of well-earned fame, and wonder where it lies,
Would read the secret in your simple ways!