by Emily Dickinson
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American Literature – American Poetry – Emily Dickinson
< < < I have no life but this
I know a place where summer strives > > >
I have not told my garden yet
I have not told my garden yet,
Lest that should conquer me;
I have not quite the strength now
To break it to the bee.
I will not name it in the street,
For shops would stare, that I,
So shy, so very ignorant,
Should have the face to die.
The hillsides must not know it,
Where I have rambled so,
Nor tell the loving forests
The day that I shall go,
Nor lisp it at the table,
Nor heedless by the way
Hint that within the riddle
One will walk to-day!
< < < I have no life but this
I know a place where summer strives > > >
American Literature – American Poetry – Emily Dickinson
Copyright holders – Public Domain
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