Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.
690 Victory comes late— And is held low to freezing lips— Too rapt with frost To take it— How sweet it would have tasted— Just a Drop— Was God so economical? His Table's spread too high for Us— Unless We dine on tiptoe— Crumbs—fit such little mouths— Cherries—suit Robbins— The Eagle's Golden Breakfast strangles—Them— God keep His Oath to Sparrows— Who of little Love—know how to starve—
Added: 30 Sep 2002 | Last Read: 7 Jun 2025 5:33 PM | Viewed: 12704 times
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Emily Dickinson
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