Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924. |
Part Five: The Single Hound
LXX
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| IN winter, in my room, | |
| I came upon a worm, | |
| Pink, lank, and warm. | |
| But as he was a worm | |
| And worms presume, | 5 |
| Not quite with him at home— | |
| Secured him by a string | |
| To something neighboring, | |
| And went along. | |
| |
| A trifle afterward | 10 |
| A thing occurred, | |
| I ’d not believe it if I heard— | |
| But state with creeping blood; | |
| A snake, with mottles rare, | |
| Surveyed my chamber floor, | 15 |
| In feature as the worm before, | |
| But ringed with power. | |
| The very string | |
| With which I tied him, too, | |
| When he was mean and new, | 20 |
| That string was there. | |
| |
| I shrank—“How fair you are!” | |
| Propitiation’s claw— | |
| “Afraid,” he hissed, | |
| “Of me?” | 25 |
| “No cordiality?” | |
| He fathomed me. | |
| Then, to a rhythm slim | |
| Secreted in his form, | |
| As patterns swim, | 30 |
| Projected him. | |
| |
| That time I flew, | |
| Both eyes his way, | |
| Lest he pursue— | |
| Nor ever ceased to run, | 35 |
| Till, in a distant town, | |
| Towns on from mine— | |
| I sat me down; | |
| This was a dream. | |
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