Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924. |
Part One: Life
LXXVI
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| I HAD been hungry all the years; | |
| My noon had come, to dine; | |
| I, trembling, drew the table near, | |
| And touched the curious wine. | |
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| ’T was this on tables I had seen, | 5 |
| When turning, hungry, lone, | |
| I looked in windows, for the wealth | |
| I could not hope to own. | |
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| I did not know the ample bread, | |
| ’T was so unlike the crumb | 10 |
| The birds and I had often shared | |
| In Nature’s dining-room. | |
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| The plenty hurt me, ’t was so new,— | |
| Myself felt ill and odd, | |
| As berry of a mountain bush | 15 |
| Transplanted to the road. | |
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| Nor was I hungry; so I found | |
| That hunger was a way | |
| Of persons outside windows, | |
| The entering takes away. | 20 |
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