Poemsby Emily Dickinson

A Snake
The Moon


Could I but ride indefinite,
  As doth the meadow-bee,
And visit only where I liked,
  And no man visit me,
And flirt all day with buttercups,
  And marry whom I may,
And dwell a little everywhere,
  Or better, run away
With no police to follow,
  Or chase me if I do,
Till I should jump peninsulas
  To get away from you, —
I said, but just to be a bee
  Upon a raft of air,
And row in nowhere all day long,
  And anchor off the bar,—
What liberty! So captives deem
  Who tight in dungeons are.