Poemsby Emily Dickinson

Out of the Morning

 Will there really be a morning? Is there such a thing as day? Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as they? 
 Has it feet like water-lilies? Has it feathers like a bird? Is it brought from famous countries Of which I have never heard? 
 Oh, some scholar! Oh, some sailor! Oh, some wise man from the skies! Please to tell a little pilgrim Where the place called morning lies!