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ClassicsEmily Dickinson
727 Precious to Me—She still shall be— Though She forget the name I bear— The fashion of the Gown I wear— The very Color of My Hair— So like the Meadows—now— I dared to show a Tress of Theirs If haply—She might not despise A Buttercup’s Array— I know the Whole—obscures the Part— The fraction—that appeased the Heart Till Number’s Empery— Remembered—as the Millner’s flower When Summer’s Everlasting Dower— Confronts the dazzled Bee.
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Precious to Me—She still shall be
727 Precious to Me—She still shall be— Though She forget the name I bear— The fashion of the Gown I wear— The very Color of My Hair— So like the Meadows—now— I dared to show a Tress of Theirs If haply—She might not despise A Buttercup’s Array— I know the Whole—obscures the Part— The fraction—that appeased the Heart Till Number’s Empery— Remembered—as the Millner’s flower When Summer’s Everlasting Dower— Confronts the dazzled Bee.
Emily Dickinson
Classics
Emily Dickinson
1830 - 1886/Female/American