Emily Dickinson

I Think The Hemlock Likes To Stand

poem 525

I think the Hemlock likes to stand Upon a Marge of Snow It suits his own Austerity And satisfies an awe That men, must slake in Wilderness And in the Desert cloy An instinct for the Hoar, the Bald Lapland’s necessity The Hemlock’s nature thrives on cold The Gnash of Northern winds Is sweetest nutriment to him His best Norwegian Wines To satin Races he is nought But Children on the Don, Beneath his Tabernacles, play, And Dnieper Wrestlers, run.

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