Within my Garden, Rides a Bird, por Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

Within my Garden, Rides a Bird

500

Within my Garden, rides a Bird

Upon a single Wheel—

Whose spokes a dizzy Music make

As ’twere a travelling Mill—

He never stops, but slackens

Above the Ripest Rose—

Partakes without alighting

And praises as he goes,

Till every spice is tasted—

And then his Fairy Gig

Reels in remoter atmospheres—

And I rejoin my Dog,

And He and I, perplex us

If positive, ’twere we—

Or bore the Garden in the Brain

This Curiosity—

But He, the best Logician,

Refers my clumsy eye—

To just vibrating Blossoms!

An Exquisite Reply!

#AmericanWriters

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Emily Dickinson

Within my Garden, Rides a Bird

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