Poemsby Emily Dickinson

XX

 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.