Come slowly,
Eden
Lips unused to thee.
Bashful, sip thy jasmines,
As the fainting bee,
Reaching late his flower,
Round her chamber hums,
Counts his nectars -alights,
And is lost in balms!
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- You Taught Me Waiting With Myself
- It Was Given To Me By The Gods
- A Solemn Thing&Mdash;It Was&Mdash;I Said
- I Like A Look Of Agony
- Absent Place&Mdash;An April Day