Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924. |
Part Two: Nature
XXX
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| THE WIND tapped like a tired man, | |
| And like a host, “Come in,” | |
| I boldly answered; entered then | |
| My residence within | |
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| A rapid, footless guest, | 5 |
| To offer whom a chair | |
| Were as impossible as hand | |
| A sofa to the air. | |
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| No bone had he to bind him, | |
| His speech was like the push | 10 |
| Of numerous humming-birds at once | |
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| His countenance a billow, | |
| His fingers, if he pass, | |
| Let go a music, as of tunes | |
| Blown tremulous in glass. | 15 |
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| He visited, still flitting; | |
| Then, like a timid man, | |
| Again he tapped—’t was flurriedly— | |
| And I became alone. | |
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