Perhaps I asked too large --
I take -- no less than skies --
For Earths, grow thick as
Berries, in my native town --
My Basked holds -- just -- Firmaments --
Those -- dangle easy -- on my arm,
But smaller bundles -- Cram.
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- I Often Passed The Village
- They Called Me To The Window, For
- His Heart Was Darker Than The Starless Night
- How fits his Umber Coat
- A lane of Yellow led the eye
