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POEMS OF EMILY DICKINSON
No bone had he to bind him,
His speech was like the push
Of numerous humming-birds at once
From a superior bush.
His speech was like the push
Of numerous humming-birds at once
From a superior bush.
His countenance a billow,
His fingers, if he pass,
Let go a music, as of tunes
Blown tremulous in glass.
His fingers, if he pass,
Let go a music, as of tunes
Blown tremulous in glass.
He visited, still flitting;
Then, like a timid man,
Again he tapped — ’t was flurriedly —
And I became alone.
Then, like a timid man,
Again he tapped — ’t was flurriedly —
And I became alone.
XXXI
NATURE rarer uses yellow
Than another hue;
Saves she all of that for sunsets, —
Prodigal of blue,
Than another hue;
Saves she all of that for sunsets, —
Prodigal of blue,
Spending scarlet like a woman,
Yellow she affords
Only scantly and selectly,
Like a lover’s words.
Yellow she affords
Only scantly and selectly,
Like a lover’s words.
XXXII
THE leaves, like women, interchange
Sagacious confidence;
Somewhat of nods, and somewhat of
Portentous inference,
Sagacious confidence;
Somewhat of nods, and somewhat of
Portentous inference,
[96]
