‘Tis my first night beneath the Sun
If I should spend it here —
Above him is too low a height
For his Barometer
Who Airs of expectation breathes
And takes the Wind at prime —
But Distance his Delights confides
To those who visit him —
(Emily Dickinson)
More Poetry from Emily Dickinson:
- Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine (Emily Dickinson Poems)
- Sic transit gloria mundi (Emily Dickinson Poems)
- I cannot live with You (Emily Dickinson Poems)
- The Wind begun to knead the Grass (Emily Dickinson Poems)
- One Year ago-jots what? (Emily Dickinson Poems)
- Your Riches - taugh (Emily Dickinson Poems)