Poemsby Emily Dickinson

Enough

 God gave a loaf to every bird, But just a crumb to me; I dare not eat it, though I starve, - My poignant luxury To own it, touch it, prove the feat That made the pellet mine, - Too happy in my sparrow chance For ampler coveting. 
 It might be famine all around, I could not miss an ear, Such plenty smiles upon my board, My garner shows so fair. I wonder how the rich may feel, - An Indiaman - an Earl? I deem that I with but a crumb Am sovereign of them all.