Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.
319 The nearest Dream recedes—unrealized— The Heaven we chase, Like the June Bee—before the School Boy, Invites the Race— Stoops—to an easy Clover— Dips—evades—teases—deploys— Then—to the Royal Clouds Lifts his light Pinnace— Heedless of the Boy— Staring—bewildered—at the mocking sky— Homesick for steadfast Honey— Ah, the Bee flies not That brews that rare variety!
Added: 9 Sep 2001 | Last Read: 7 Jun 2025 4:23 PM | Viewed: 9056 times
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Emily Dickinson
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