184

APOTHEOSIS.

Come slowly, Eden!
Lips unused to thee,
Bashful, sip thy jasmines,
As the fainting bee,

Reaching late his flower,
Round her chamber hums,
Counts his nectars — enters,
And is lost in balms!

Source:

Poems by Emily Dickinson Three Series, Emily Dickinson, Public Domain

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American Literature I: An Open Anthology of Texts From Early America Through the Civil War Copyright © 2019 by Jenifer Kurtz is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License, except where otherwise noted.

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