-
a poem by Emily Dickinson
-
- My cocoon tightens, colors tease,
- I'm feeling for the air;
- A dim capacity for wings
- Degrades the dress I wear.
-
- A power of butterfly must be
- The aptitude to fly,
- Meadows of majesty concedes
- And easy sweeps of sky.
-
- So I must baffle at the hint
- And cipher at the sign,
- And make much blunder, if at
last
- I take the clew divine.
BACK TO EMILY
DICKINSON INDEX
|