Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

A Book (He ate and drank the precious words)

He ate and drank the precious words,
His spirit grew robust;
He knew no more that he was poor,
Nor that his frame was dust.
He danced along the dingy days,
And this bequest of wings
Was but a book. What liberty
A loosened spirit brings!

1. Contrast
2. Ventures
3. What Soft, Cherubic Creatures
4. Philosophy
5. This Merit Hath the Worst

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