“Arcturus” is his other name’—
I’d rather call him “Star.”
It’s very mean of Science
To go and interfere!
I slew a worm the other day’—
A “Savant” passing by
Murmured “Resurgam”'—"Centipede"!
&q uot;Oh Lord’—how frail are we"!
I pull a flower from the woods’—
A monster with a glass
Computes the stamens in a breath’—
And has her in a “class”!
Whereas I took the Butterfly
Aforetime in my hat’—
He sits erect in “Cabinets”'—
The Clover bells forgot.
What once was “Heaven”
Is “Zenith” now’—
Where I proposed to go
When Time’s brief masquerade was done
Is mapped and charted too.
What if the poles should frisk about
And stand upon their heads!
I hope I’m ready for “the worst”'—
Whatever prank betides!
Perhaps the “Kingdom of Heaven’s” changed’—
I hope the “Children” there Won’t be “new fashioned” when I come’—
And laugh at me’—and stare’—
I hope the Father in the skies
Will lift his little girl’—
Old fashioned’—naught’—everything’—
Over the stile of “Pearl.”
Altre opere di Emily Dickinson ...