Emily Dickinson

I would not paint — a picture — (348)

I would not paint — a picture — I'd rather be the One It's bright impossibility To dwell — delicious — on — And wonder how the fingers feel Whose rare — celestial — stir — Evokes so sweet a torment — Such sumptuous — Despair — I would not talk, like Cornets — I'd rather be the One Raised softly to the Ceilings — And out, and easy on — Through Villages of Ether — Myself endued Balloon By but a lip of Metal — The pier to my Pontoon — Nor would I be a Poet — It's finer — Own the Ear — Enamored — impotent — content — The License to revere, A privilege so awful What would the Dower be, Had I the Art to stun myself With Bolts — of Melody!