Poem 327

Emily Dickinson

 

Before I got my eye put out

I liked as well to see—

As other Creatures, that have Eyes

And know no other way—

 

But were it told to me—Today—

That I might have the sky

For mine—I tell you that my Heart

Would split, for size of me—

 

The Meadows—mine—

The Mountains—mine—

All Forests—Stintless Stars—

As much of Noon as I could take

Between my finite eyes—

 

The Motions of the Dipping Birds—

The Morning’s Amber Road—

For mine—to look at when I liked—

The News would strike me dead—

 

So safer—guess—with just my soul

Upon the Window pane—

Where other Creatures put their eyes—

Incautious—of the Sun—