I think I was enchanted
When first a sombre Girl —
I read that Foreign Lady —
The Dark — felt beautiful —
And whether it was noon at night —
Or only Heaven — at Noon —
For very Lunacy of Light
I had not power to tell —
The Bees — became as Butterflies —
The Butterflies — as Swans —
Approached — and spurned the narrow Grass —
And just the meanest Tunes
That Nature murmured to herself
To keep herself in Cheer —
I took for Giants — practising
Titanic Opera —
The Days — to Mighty Metres stept —
The Homeliest — adorned
As if unto a Jubilee
'Twere suddenly Confirmed —
I could not have defined the change —
Conversion of the Mind
Like Sanctifying in the Soul —
Is Witnessed — not Explained —
'Twas a Divine Insanity —
The Danger to be sane
Should I again experience —
'Tis Antidote to turn —
To Tomes of solid Witchcraft —
Magicians be asleep —
But Magic — hath an Element —
Like Deity — to keep —
Poetry by Emily Dickinson (edit list): | |
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