Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924. COMPLIMENTS OF BARTLEBY.COM Part Two: Nature CIII THE MOON was but a chin of gold A night or two ago, And now she turns her perfect face Upon the world below. Her forehead is of amplest blond; 5 Her cheek like beryl stone; Her eye unto the summer dew The likest I have known. Her lips of amber never part; But what must be the smile 10 Upon her friend she could bestow Were such her silver will! And what a privilege to be But the remotest star! For certainly her way might pass 15 Beside your twinkling door. Her bonnet is the firmament, The universe her shoe, The stars the trinkets at her belt, Her dimities of blue. CII COULD I but ride indefinite, As doth the meadow-bee, And visit only where I liked, And no man visit me, And flirt all day with buttercups, 5 And marry whom I may, And dwell a little everywhere, Or better, run away With no police to follow, Or chase me if I do, 10 Till I should jump peninsulas To get away from you,— I said, but just to be a bee Upon a raft of air, And row in nowhere all day long, 15 And anchor off the bar,— What liberty! So captives deem Who tight in dungeons are. XCVIII IT ’S like the light,— A fashionless delight, It’s like the bee,— A dateless melody. It ’s like the woods, 5 Private like breeze, Phraseless, yet it stirs The proudest trees. It ’s like the morning,— Best when it’s done,— 10 The everlasting clocks Chime noon. XCVII TO make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,— One clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery alone will do If bees are few.
Posted on: Tue, 20 Jan 2015 22:59:55 +0000
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