Poemsby Emily Dickinson

In Shadow

 I dreaded that first robin so, But he is mastered now, And I 'm accustomed to him grown, - He hurts a little, though. 
 I thought if I could only live Till that first shout got by, Not all pianos in the woods Had power to mangle me. 
 I dared not meet the daffodils, For fear their yellow gown Would pierce me with a fashion So foreign to my own. 
 I wished the grass would hurry, So when 't was time to see, He 'd be too tall, the tallest one Could stretch to look at me. 
 I could not bear the bees should come, I wished they 'd stay away In those dim countries where they go: What word had they for me? 
 They 're here, though; not a creature failed, No blossom stayed away In gentle deference to me, The Queen of Calvary. 
 Each one salutes me as he goes, And I my childish plumes Lift, in bereaved acknowledgment Of their unthinking drums.