Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

* * *

The most triumphant Bird
I ever knew or met
Embarked upon a twig today
And till Dominion set
I famish to behold
so eminent a sight
And sang for nothing scrutable
But intimate Delight.
Retired, and resumed
his transitive Estate —
To what delicious Accident
Does finest Glory fit!

1. Superiority to Fate
2. Hope (Hope is a subtle glutton)
3. The Forgotten Grave
4. Forbidden Fruit. I
5. I Think Just How My Shape Will Rise

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