by Emily Dickinson
427
I'll clutch-and clutch-
Next-One-Might be the golden touch-
Could take it-
Diamonds-Wait-
I'm diving-just a little late-
But stars-go slow-for night-
I'll string you-in fine Necklace-
Tiaras-make-of some-
Wear you on Hem-
Loop up a Countess-with you-
Make-a Diadem-and mend my old One-
Count-Hoard-then lose-
And doubt that you are mine-
To have the joy of feeling it-again-
I'll show you at the Court-
Bear you-for Ornament
Where Women breathe-
That every sigh-may lift you
Just as high-as I-
And-when I die-
In meek array-display you-
Still to show-how rich I go-
Lest Skies impeach a wealth so wonderful-
And banish me-
Last updated June 21, 2015