The Butterfly upon the Sky,
That doesn't know its Name
And hasn't any tax to pay
And hasn't any Home
Is just as high as you and I,
And higher, I believe,
So soar away and never sigh
And that's the way to grieve -
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- Who Were 'The Father And The Son'
- I Met A King This Afternoon!
- When Bells Stop Ringing—church—begins
- Mine—by The Right Of The White Election!
- Me! Come! My Dazzled Face