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604 Unto my Books—so good to turn— Far ends of tired Days— It half endears the Abstinence— And Pain—is missed—in Praise— As Flavors—cheer Retarded Guests With Banquettings to be— So Spices—stimulate the time Till my small Library— It may be Wilderness—without— Far feet of failing Men— But Holiday—excludes the night— And it is Bells—within— I thank these Kinsmen of the Shelf— Their Countenances Kid Enamor—in Prospective— And satisfy—obtained—
Added: 2 Sep 2002 | Last Read: 4 Sep 2026 12:39 AM | Viewed: 9416 times
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Emily Dickinson
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