Emily Dickinson

I Had Been Hungry All The Years-

I had been hungry all the years- My noon had come, to dine- I, trembling, drew the table near And touched the curious wine. ‘T was this on tables I had seen When turning, hungry, lone, I looked in windows, for the wealth I could not hope to own. I did not know the ample bread, ‘T was so unlike the crumb The birds and I had often shared In Nature’s dining-room. The plenty hurt me, ‘t was so new,– Myself felt ill and odd, As berry of a mountain bush Transplanted to the road. Nor was I hungry; so I found That hunger was a way Of persons outside windows, The entering takes away.

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