Emily Dickinson Poems

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The Moon was but a Chin of Gold
A Night or two ago --
And now she turns Her perfect Face
Upon the World below --

Her Forehead is of Amplest Blonde --
Her Cheek -- a Beryl hewn --
Her Eye unto the Summer Dew
The likest I have known --

Her Lips of Amber never part --
But what must be the smile
Upon Her Friend she could confer
Were such Her Silver Will --

And what a privilege to be
But the remotest Star --
For Certainty She take Her Way
Beside Your Palace Door --

Her Bonnet is the Firmament --
The Universe -- Her Shoe --
The Stars -- the Trinkets at Her Belt --
Her Dimities -- of Blue --

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