 | Poems by Emily Dickinson |  |
65
XVIII.
APOTHEOSIS.
Come slowly, Eden!
Lips unused to thee,
Bashful, sip thy jasmines,
As the fainting bee,
Lips unused to thee,
Bashful, sip thy jasmines,
As the fainting bee,
Reaching late his flower,
Round her chamber hums,
Counts his nectars—enters,
And is lost in balms!
Round her chamber hums,
Counts his nectars—enters,
And is lost in balms!
| Poems by Emily Dickinson | |