Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete · Emily Dickinson
Chapter 20
Chapter 77 of 146 · 1 min read
OLD-FASHIONED.
Arcturus is his other name, — I'd rather call him star! It's so unkind of science To go and interfere!
I pull a flower from the woods, — A monster with a glass Computes the stamens in a breath, And has her in a class.
Whereas I took the butterfly Aforetime in my hat, He sits erect in cabinets, The clover-bells forgot.
What once was heaven, is zenith now. Where I proposed to go When time's brief masquerade was done, Is mapped, and charted too!
What if the poles should frisk about And stand upon their heads! I hope I 'm ready for the worst, Whatever prank betides!
Perhaps the kingdom of Heaven 's changed! I hope the children there Won't be new-fashioned when I come, And laugh at me, and stare!
I hope the father in the skies Will lift his little girl, — Old-fashioned, naughty, everything, — Over the stile of pearl!
