 | Poems by Emily Dickinson |  |
97
[VII. Wild nights! Wild nights!]
Wild nights! Wild nights!
Were I with thee,
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!
Were I with thee,
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!
Futile the winds
To a heart in port,—
Done with the compass,
Done with the chart.
To a heart in port,—
Done with the compass,
Done with the chart.
Rowing in Eden!
Ah! the sea!
Might I but moor
To-night in thee!
Ah! the sea!
Might I but moor
To-night in thee!
| Poems by Emily Dickinson | |