Emily Dickinson Poems

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How sick -- to wait -- in any place -- but thine --
I knew last night -- when someone tried to twine --
Thinking -- perhaps -- that I looked tired -- or alone --
Or breaking -- almost -- with unspoken pain --

And I turned -- ducal --
That right -- was thine --
One port -- suffices -- for a Brig -- like mine --

Ours be the tossing -- wild though the sea --
Rather than a Mooring -- unshared by thee.
Ours be the Cargo -- unladed -- here --
Rather than the "spicy isles --"
And thou -- not there --

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