Winter: My Secret
BY C HR IS TIN A ROS SE TT I
I tell my secret? No indeed, not I; *teasing, vexing, jocular, playful,
taunting
Perhaps some day, who knows? *uncertainty/ no promises
But not today; it froze, and blows and snows, *internal rhyme
And you’re too curious: fie!
You want to hear it? well:
Only, my secret’s mine, and I won’t tell. *child-like, puerile
playfulness
Or, after all, perhaps there’s none: *goading, teasing
continues/coy/flirtatious
Suppose there is no secret after all,
But only just my fun. *child-like quality
Today’s a nipping day, a biting day;
In which one wants a shawl, *clothing that covers and
obscures
A veil, a cloak, and other wraps:
I cannot ope to everyone who taps, *self-preservation
And let the draughts come whistling thro’ my hall;
Come bounding and surrounding me,
Come buffeting, astounding me, * people prying
Nipping and clipping thro’ my wraps and all.
I wear my mask for warmth: who ever shows
His nose to Russian snows
To be pecked at by every wind that blows?
You would not peck? I thank you for good will, *tone of
incredulity/disbelief
Believe, but leave the truth untested still. *internal rhyme
Spring’s an expansive time: yet I don’t trust
March with its peck of dust,
Nor April with its rainbow-crowned brief showers,
Nor even May, whose flowers
One frost may wither thro’ the sunless hours.
, Perhaps some languid summer day,
When drowsy birds sing less and less,
And golden fruit is ripening to excess,
If there’s not too much sun nor too much cloud,
And the warm wind is neither still nor loud,
Perhaps my secret I may say, *anaphora/continuation of teasing
tone
Or you may guess.
This poem is centred on the notion of an untold secret which consequently
arouses interest and intrigue. The nature of the secret remains a matter of
speculation throughout the poem. It is never revealed. The intertwining of the
winter with the secret is also a matter of intrigue. The idea of keeping something
secret seems to somehow fit quite comfortably with the season, with everything
being wrapped up tight and hidden away more easily than it would usually be; the
shawl, veil and cloak that Rossetti surrounds herself in keeps out the outer cold
and protects the inner secret from the prying attention of others. Conversely,
winter could also be the thing that threatens to expose a secret – note the
draughts that ‘come whistling thro’ my hall…Nipping and clipping thro’ my wraps
and all’, as well as the mask that is worn for ‘warmth’ and perhaps too for self-
preservation. The idea of a secret being frozen appears in the third line and the
image it conjures up, of something forever held as it is, unknown and producing
an endless quest for knowledge from those who see it.
Rossetti keeps us hanging, never revealing her secret – or indeed confirming that
there is one to begin with – just giving us an estimated time of when we may
know more, far off into the summer months when things and people alike
generally are freer.
The tone of “My Secret” is thus coy and teasing in nature. The speaker playfully
addresses an unknown listener, engaging him or her in dialogue as they refuses to
reveal a closely-guarded secret, despite the listener’s obvious pleading. The poem
BY C HR IS TIN A ROS SE TT I
I tell my secret? No indeed, not I; *teasing, vexing, jocular, playful,
taunting
Perhaps some day, who knows? *uncertainty/ no promises
But not today; it froze, and blows and snows, *internal rhyme
And you’re too curious: fie!
You want to hear it? well:
Only, my secret’s mine, and I won’t tell. *child-like, puerile
playfulness
Or, after all, perhaps there’s none: *goading, teasing
continues/coy/flirtatious
Suppose there is no secret after all,
But only just my fun. *child-like quality
Today’s a nipping day, a biting day;
In which one wants a shawl, *clothing that covers and
obscures
A veil, a cloak, and other wraps:
I cannot ope to everyone who taps, *self-preservation
And let the draughts come whistling thro’ my hall;
Come bounding and surrounding me,
Come buffeting, astounding me, * people prying
Nipping and clipping thro’ my wraps and all.
I wear my mask for warmth: who ever shows
His nose to Russian snows
To be pecked at by every wind that blows?
You would not peck? I thank you for good will, *tone of
incredulity/disbelief
Believe, but leave the truth untested still. *internal rhyme
Spring’s an expansive time: yet I don’t trust
March with its peck of dust,
Nor April with its rainbow-crowned brief showers,
Nor even May, whose flowers
One frost may wither thro’ the sunless hours.
, Perhaps some languid summer day,
When drowsy birds sing less and less,
And golden fruit is ripening to excess,
If there’s not too much sun nor too much cloud,
And the warm wind is neither still nor loud,
Perhaps my secret I may say, *anaphora/continuation of teasing
tone
Or you may guess.
This poem is centred on the notion of an untold secret which consequently
arouses interest and intrigue. The nature of the secret remains a matter of
speculation throughout the poem. It is never revealed. The intertwining of the
winter with the secret is also a matter of intrigue. The idea of keeping something
secret seems to somehow fit quite comfortably with the season, with everything
being wrapped up tight and hidden away more easily than it would usually be; the
shawl, veil and cloak that Rossetti surrounds herself in keeps out the outer cold
and protects the inner secret from the prying attention of others. Conversely,
winter could also be the thing that threatens to expose a secret – note the
draughts that ‘come whistling thro’ my hall…Nipping and clipping thro’ my wraps
and all’, as well as the mask that is worn for ‘warmth’ and perhaps too for self-
preservation. The idea of a secret being frozen appears in the third line and the
image it conjures up, of something forever held as it is, unknown and producing
an endless quest for knowledge from those who see it.
Rossetti keeps us hanging, never revealing her secret – or indeed confirming that
there is one to begin with – just giving us an estimated time of when we may
know more, far off into the summer months when things and people alike
generally are freer.
The tone of “My Secret” is thus coy and teasing in nature. The speaker playfully
addresses an unknown listener, engaging him or her in dialogue as they refuses to
reveal a closely-guarded secret, despite the listener’s obvious pleading. The poem
