by Emily Dickinson
517
He parts Himself-like Leaves-
And then-He closes up-
Then stands upon the Bonnet
Of Any Buttercup-
And then He runs against
And oversets a Rose-
And then does Nothing-
Then away upon a Jib-He goes-
And dangles like a Mote
Suspended in the Noon-
Uncertain-to return Below-
Or settle in the Moon-
What come of Him-at Night-
The privilege to say
Be limited by Ignorance-
What come of Him-That Day-
The Frost-possess the World-
In Cabinets-be shown-
A Sepulchre of quaintest Floss-
An Abbey-a Cocoon-
Last updated June 21, 2015