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299 Your Riches—taught me—Poverty. Myself—a Millionaire In little Wealths, as Girls could boast Till broad as Buenos Ayre— You drifted your Dominions— A Different Peru— And I esteemed All Poverty For Life's Estate with you— Of Mines, I little know—myself— But just the names, of Gems— The Colors of the Commonest— And scarce of Diadems— So much, that did I meet the Queen— Her Glory I should know— But this, must be a different Wealth— To miss it—beggars so— I'm sure 'tis India—all Day— To those who look on You— Without a stint—without a blame, Might I—but be the Jew— I'm sure it is Golconda— Beyond my power to deem— To have a smile for Mine—each Day, How better, than a Gem! At least, it solaces to know That there exists—a Gold— Altho' I prove it, just in time Its distance—to behold— Its far—far Treasure to surmise— And estimate the Pearl— That slipped my simple fingers through— While just a Girl at School.
Added: 19 Aug 2002 | Last Read: 7 Jun 2025 4:54 PM | Viewed: 11695 times
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Emily Dickinson
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