THE LOST JEWEL - I held a jewel in my fingers
I held a jewel in my fingers / And went to sleep.
MY ROSE - Pigmy seraphs gone astray
❦
Pigmy seraphs gone astray,
Velvet people from Vevay,
Belles from some lost summer day,
Bees' exclusive coterie.
Paris could not lay the fold
Belted down with emerald;
Venice could not show a cheek
Of a tint so lustrous meek.
Never such an ambuscade
As of brier and leaf displayed
For my little damask maid.
I had rather wear her grace
Than an earl's distinguished face;
I had rather dwell like her
Than be Duke of Exeter
Royalty enough for me
To subdue the bumble-bee!
More poems by Emily Dickinson
INDIAN SUMMER - These are the days when birds come back
These are the days when birds come back, / A very few, a bird or two,
DYING
The sun kept setting, setting still; / No hue of afternoon
We learn in the retreating
We learn in the retreating / How vast an one