Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

Why?

The murmur of a bee
A witchcraft yieldeth me.
If any ask me why,
'T were easier to die
Than tell.

The red upon the hill
Taketh away my will;
If anybody sneer,
Take care, for God is here,
That's all.

The breaking of the day
Addeth to my degree;
If any ask me how,
Artist, who drew me so,
Must tell!

1. A Shady Friend for Torrid Days
2. The Goal
3. Sight
4. The Thought Beneath So Slight a Film
5. Portraits Are to Daily Faces

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