Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924. |
Part Two: Nature
XIX
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| I STARTED early, took my dog, | |
| And visited the sea; | |
| The mermaids in the basement | |
| Came out to look at me, | |
| |
| And frigates in the upper floor | 5 |
| Extended hempen hands, | |
| Presuming me to be a mouse | |
| Aground, upon the sands. | |
| |
| But no man moved me till the tide | |
| Went past my simple shoe, | 10 |
| And past my apron and my belt, | |
| And past my bodice too, | |
| |
| And made as he would eat me up | |
| As wholly as a dew | |
| Upon a dandelion’s sleeve— | 15 |
| And then I started too. | |
| |
| And he—he followed close behind; | |
| I felt his silver heel | |
| Upon my ankle,—then my shoes | |
| Would overflow with pearl. | 20 |
| |
| Until we met the solid town, | |
| No man he seemed to know; | |
| And bowing with a mighty look | |
| At me, the sea withdrew. | |
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