large/7245/poems_seriestwo_la_librivox_64kb_mp3/poemsseriestwo_2_dickinson_64kb_13
large/7245/poems_seriestwo_la_librivox_64kb_mp3/poemsseriestwo_2_dickinson_64kb
English
7245
VIII. AT HOME. The night was wide, and furnished scant With but a single star, That often as a cloud it met Blew out itself for fear. The wind pursued the little bush, And drove away the leaves November left; then clambered up And fretted in the eaves. EIGHT AT HOME THE NIGHT WAS WIDE AND FURNISHED SCANT WITH BUT A SINGLE STAR THAT OFTEN AS A CLOUD IT MET BLEW OUT ITSELF FOR FEAR THE WIND PURSUED THE LITTLE BUSH AND DROVE AWAY THE LEAVES NOVEMBER LEFT THEN CLAMBERED UP AND FRETTED IN THE EAVES
nished before we finished, And the old clock kept neighing 'day!' And you got sleepy and begged to be ended -- What could it hinder so, to say? Tell him just how she sealed you, cautious, But if he ask where you are hid Until to-morrow, -- happy letter! Gesture, coquette, and shake your head!" VI. The way I read a letter 's this: 'T is first I lock the door, And push it with my fingers next, For transport it be sure. And then I go the furthest off To counteract a knock; Then draw my little letter forth And softly pick its lock. Then, glancing narrow at the wall, And narrow at the floor, For firm conviction of a mouse Not exorcised before, Peruse how infinite I am To -- no one that you know! And sigh for lack of heaven, -- but not The heaven the creeds bestow. VII. Wild nights! Wild nights! 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. Rowing in Eden! Ah! the sea! Might I but moor To-night in thee! IT AND THEN YOU AND I WERE SILENTER TELL HIM NIGHT FINISHED BEFORE WE FINISHED AND THE OLD CLOCK KEPT NEIGHING DAY AND YOU GOT SLEEPY AND BEGGED TO BE ENDED WHAT COULD IT HINDER SO TO SAY TELL HIM JUST HOW SHE SEALED YOU CAUTIOUS BUT IF HE ASK'D WHERE YOU ARE HID UNTIL TO MORROW HAPPY LETTER GESTURE COQUETTE AND SHAKE YOUR HEAD SIX THE WAY I READ A LETTER'S THIS TIS FIRST I LOCK THE DOOR AND PUSH IT WITH MY FINGERS NEXT FOR TRANSPORT IT BE SURE AND THEN I GO THE FURTHEST OFF TO COUNTERACT A KNOCK THEN DRAW MY LITTLE LETTER FORTH AND SOFTLY PICK ITS LOCK THEN GLANCING NARROW AT THE WALL AND NARROW AT THE FLOOR FOR FIRM CONVICTION OF A MOUSE NOT EXERCISED BEFORE PERUSE HOW INFINITE I AM TO NO ONE THAT YOU KNOW AND SIGH FOR LACK OF HEAVEN BUT NOT THE HEAVEN THE CREEDS BESTOW SEVEN WILD NIGHTS WILD NIGHTS 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 ROWING IN EDEN AH THE SEA MIGHT I BUT MOOR TO NIGHT IN THEE
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