Letter 257 (late March 1862? - Franklin: December 1861) Samuel Bowles lyrics
by Emily Dickinson
Dear Mr Bowles.
Victory comes late,
And is held low to freezing lips
Too rapt with frost
To mind it!
How sweet it would have tasted!
Just a drop!
Was God so economical?
His table's spread too high
Except we dine on tiptoe!
Crumbs fit such little mouths -
Cherries - suit Robins -
The Eagle's golden breakfast - dazzles them!
God keep his vow to "Sparrows"
Who of little love -
Know how to starve!
Emily.