 | Poems by Emily Dickinson |  |
60
XXXVI.
SIGHT.
Before I got my eye put out,
I liked as well to see
As other creatures that have eyes,
And know no other way.
I liked as well to see
As other creatures that have eyes,
And know no other way.
But were it told to me, to-day,
That I might have the sky
For mine, I tell you that my heart
Would split, for size of me.
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.
All forests, stintless stars,
As much of noon as I could take
Between my finite eyes.
61
The motions of the dipping birds,
The lightning's jointed road,
For mine to look at when I liked,—
The news would strike me dead!
The lightning's jointed 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.
Upon the window-pane
Where other creatures put their eyes,
Incautious of the sun.
| Poems by Emily Dickinson | |