Read the poem: “My Rose”

by Emily Dickinson

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Pigmy seraphs gone astray,

Velvet people from Vevay,

Belles from some lost summer day,

Bees’ exclusive coterie.

Paris could not lay the fold

Belted down with emerald;

Venice could not show a cheek

Of a tint so lustrous meek.

Never such an ambuscade

As of brier and leaf displayed

For my little damask maid.

I had rather wear her grace

Than an earl’s distinguished face;

I had rather dwell like her

Than be Duke of Exeter

Royalty enough for me

To subdue the bumble-bee!

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