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Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.

909

I make His Crescent fill or lack—
His Nature is at Full
Or Quarter—as I signify—
His Tides—do I control—

He holds superior in the Sky
Or gropes, at my Command
Behind inferior Clouds—or round
A Mist's slow Colonnade—

But since We hold a Mutual Disc—
And front a Mutual Day—
Which is the Despot, neither knows—
Nor Whose—the Tyranny—

Added: 6 Oct 2002 | Last Read: 7 Jun 2025 5:18 PM | Viewed: 7511 times

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