Nothing New

The great writers, one piece at a time.

Emily Dickinson · Poems

Poem 63 of 446 · First Series: Nature

Poem 19

— ✻ —

So bashful when I spied her, So pretty, so ashamed! So hidden in her leaflets, Lest anybody find;

So breathless till I passed her, So helpless when I turned And bore her, struggling, blushing, Her simple haunts beyond!

For whom I robbed the dingle, For whom betrayed the dell, Many will doubtless ask me, But I shall never tell!

Receive Emily Dickinson one poem at a time, every morning.
Subscribe →