by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)

Language: English 
Our translations:  FRE GER
Within my Garden, rides a Bird
Upon a single Wheel --
Whose spokes a dizzy Music make
As 'twere a travelling Mill --

He never stops, but slackens --
Above the Ripest Rose -
Partakes without alighting --
And praises as he goes,

Till every spice is tasted --
And then his Fairy Gig
Reels in remoter atmospheres --
And I rejoin my Dog,

And He and I, perplex us
If positive, 'twere we --
Or bore the Garden in the Brain
This Curiosity -

But He, the best Logician,
Refers my clumsy eye --
To just vibrating Blossoms!
An Exquisite Reply!

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Researcher for this page: Sharon Krebs [Senior Associate Editor]

This text was added to the website: 2014-08-28
Line count: 20
Word count: 93