Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete · Emily Dickinson
Chapter 21
Chapter 121 of 146 · 1 min read
LONGING.
I envy seas whereon he rides, I envy spokes of wheels Of chariots that him convey, I envy speechless hills
That gaze upon his journey; How easy all can see What is forbidden utterly As heaven, unto me!
I envy nests of sparrows That dot his distant eaves, The wealthy fly upon his pane, The happy, happy leaves
That just abroad his window Have summer's leave to be, The earrings of Pizarro Could not obtain for me.
I envy light that wakes him, And bells that boldly ring To tell him it is noon abroad, — Myself his noon could bring,
Yet interdict my blossom And abrogate my bee, Lest noon in everlasting night Drop Gabriel and me.
XXII.
WEDDED.
A solemn thing it was, I said, A woman white to be, And wear, if God should count me fit, Her hallowed mystery.
A timid thing to drop a life Into the purple well, Too plummetless that it come back Eternity until.
III. NATURE.
