Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

* * *

Perhaps you'd like to buy a flower?
But I could never sell.
If you would like to borrow
Until the daffodil

Unties her yellow bonnet
Beneath the village door,
Until the bees, from clover rows
Their hock and sherry draw,

Why, I will lend until just then,
But not an hour more!

1. A Poor Torn Heart, a Tattered Heart
2. Too Much
3. The Show
4. Delight Becomes Pictorial
5. A Thought Went up My Mind To-day

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