Emily Dickinson

Distrustful of the Gentian

20 Distrustful of the Gentian — And just to turn away, The fluttering of her fringes Child my perfidy — Weary for my ————— I will singing go — I shall not feel the sleet — then — I shall not fear the snow. Flees so the phantom meadow Before the breathless Bee — So bubble brooks in deserts On Ears that dying lie — Burn so the Evening Spires To Eyes that Closing go — Hangs so distant Heaven — To a hand below.